


Never Enough

by GirlMeetsMusic



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-08 05:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13451904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlMeetsMusic/pseuds/GirlMeetsMusic
Summary: Dmitry comes to terms that he will never be enough for Anya. Anya tries to convince him that she doesn't need jewels, diamonds, palaces, or fancy dresses.





	1. I Don't Deserve You

Dmitry sighed as he leaned against the wall. Anya glanced at him, a brow raised. He was acting strangely. He watched her as she folded her dress. He couldn't understand why she would choose  _him_ over a life of jewels and titles. A life where she was guaranteed to be happy and fed with a roof over her head at all times. 

"You're staring again." 

Dmitry blinked, "Huh?" 

Anya sighed as she stood up and walked over to him. Dmitry stared at the floor, feigning interest in it as he shifted from foot to foot. Anya put her hand on his cheek, gently rubbing it with her thumb. Quietly, she spoke, "You were staring again. Why?" 

"I-I guess I got lost in thought again," Dmitry mumbled. "Sorry." 

"Look at me," Anya murmured, smiling at him. 

Dmitry lifted his gaze, meeting Anya's. He forced a smile, his lips pressed tightly together. Anya stood on her tiptoes and pecked his lips. 

"Anya--" 

"Hush." 

Dmitry raised a brow. Anya ran her other hand through his chestnut colored hair. It didn't make sense to him. She - the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova - had married him. She had given up her title and married him. 

He couldn't give her jewels or diamonds. He could barely afford the small chateau they were living in. He would never deserve her. He could never be enough for her. He'd never be able to give her what she deserved. Dmitry bit his lower lip, shaking his head. 

Anya snapped her fingers in front of his face. Dmitry blinked in surprise. Anya looked up at him, eyes filled with concern. 

"What's the matter with you?" 

"Nothing, nothing," Dmitry mumbled. "Why don't you get some rest, hm? It's getting late." 

Anya nodded. She went to the bedroom, closing the door. Anya changed into her nightgown, then she lay down on the bed. 

* * *

 

Dmitry stood up and padded over to the window. Dmitry leaned against the window sill, watching the few people that were still roaming the streets at such a late hour. He sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly. How could he ever give Anya what she deserved? 

Anya stirred in bed. She kept her eyes closed, groggily murmuring, "Dima?" She sat up, opening her eyes when he didn't answer. "What're you doing over there?" 

Dmitry looked back at her. "I... well, I couldn't sleep," Dmitry mumbled. Anya stood up and shuffled over to him. She tapped his shoulder, causing him to stand up straight and turn toward her. She then wrapped her arms around his waist, putting her head against his chest. 

"Tell me what's wrong," Anya yawned. Dmitry huffed a sigh. 

"Anya, I'll never deserve you. You're a Grand Duchess. And me? I'm a poor man, Anya. I'll never be able to give you what you deserve. I just can't make sense of anything. I can barely speak French. I can't do anything, Anya. Why would you want to marry a  _Russian rat?_ " 

Anya sighed, "Dmitry, what--" 

"Forget about it. Forget I said anything, I'm sorry. You need to sleep." 

"So do you," Anya murmured. 

"I'm fine, Ana. Besides that, I'm not tired." 

"Fine. Ten minutes, then you'll try to sleep, won't you?" 

Dmitry nodded. Anya smiled, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. She then walked back over to the bed, slipping under the covers. Dmitry sighed, sitting on the window sill. He picked at his fingernails, then rubbed his calloused hands together. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly. Dmitry never cried. He didn't allow himself to cry. 

"Stop crying," he scolded himself. "You're a man, not a silly little boy." He then looked back to the road outside the window. Only a few people remained. They soon left. Dmitry glanced at the clock. He stood up, going over to the bed. He lay down beside Anya and sighed. How was he supposed to sleep when his brain wouldn't stop bringing up the fact that he couldn't give her anything she deserved? 

He shifted and closed his eyes. Maybe... just maybe, if he searched hard enough, he could find a better paying job. Then they wouldn't struggle. They could barely afford to live. A man would think that working as a man who unloads and loads cargo would be a good job with a fair pay. All it was was a pain in the back and a very low wage. Dmitry had taken the first job he found. At that time, they were desperate for anything, so he had taken the low paying job. 

Dmitry groaned in frustration, hitting his hand against his forehead. He had opened his eyes and was staring at the ceiling. Anya had turned over, scooting closer to him. She put her head on his chest, then lightly snored. He chuckled at that. Anya hardly snored, but when she did, he found it adorable. 

Dmitry sighed. He had promised her he'd try to sleep. So, Dmitry closed his eyes again after wrapping an arm around her. He shifted uncomfortably. Anya whined in her sleep. Dmitry twirled a lock of her hair around his fingers, quietly humming the Romanov lullaby. Anya shifted slightly before falling into a fitful sleep once again. He kept his eyes closed, then, after ten minutes, fell asleep. 

* * *

 

Dmitry groaned as he woke up. Anya poked at his jaw, quietly snickering. The young man exhaled deeply through his nose. 

"Anya, aren't you a bit old to be doing that?"

"No," she laughed. Dmitry hummed. 

"I have to say I disagree with that," he mumbled. Anya continued to snicker. Dmitry sat up and shot her a stern look. Anya didn't care though. She was used to it. She'd waken him up plenty of times while she was braiding his hair or putting some cosmetics on him. She thought it was humorous. He did not. He later admitted that putting lipstick on his forehead was a pretty good prank, though. 

Anya was always trying to see what got on his nerves and what didn't. As it turned out, Dmitry was very patient with her. He didn't mind that she "accidentally" spilled an entire bottle of lavender scented perfume on his shirt that he had to wear to her grandmother's estate. He had simply laughed and put it on. The time he woke up while she was putting cosmetics on him, however, he had nearly lost his temper. He didn't enjoy having powder on his face or his lips red. Anya thought it was hilarious, however, and once she had started laughing at his reaction, he had huffed and stomped to the washroom so he could wash his face. 

Anya squinted, observing her husband, who was still dressed in his pajamas. He was digging through the dresser, trying to find his favorite shirt. He was tense. Anya let out a 'hmph' and swung her legs over the side of the bed. 

"What's the matter with you, Dmitry Antonovich Sudayev?" Anya demanded. 

"I've just got a lot on my mind," he muttered in response. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." 

"Does it have anything to do with what you told me last night?" Anya crossed her arms over her chest. He sighed. 

"If it does?" Dmitry turned his head toward her. Anya shrugged. "So, it's about that. I don't deserve you. Anya, what possessed you to run after me? Give up a life of happiness and luxury for what? A poor man who can barely afford to keep a roof over your head? That doesn't seem right, Anya." 

Anya placed her hand on his shoulder, "Dima, I don't care about money.  I don't care that I can't have jewels or fancy ballgowns. I don't need a palace and riches to be happy. I'm in love with you, you crazy man.  Now go get dressed." She gently whacked the back of his head. Dmitry drew himself to his full height. 

"Make me." 

Anya huffed and grabbed her red lipstick. Dmitry's hazel eyes widened. "You wouldn't!" 

"Try me," Anya smirked. Dmitry dashed by her. She heard the door to the washroom close and laughed victoriously. 

"I'll get you back, Sudayeva!" 

* * *

 

Dmitry plopped down on a nearby crate, rolling his shoulders back. He was trying to soothe the ache in his back. He'd spent the last six hours bent over, lifting and counting several different trade items. Mostly clothing, he had noticed. After counting the items, he had to seal the crates and stack them. It was taking its toll on his spine, he knew, but he couldn't do much about it. It was the only job he could find. 

A shadow loomed over him. Dmitry looked up and laughed breathlessly when he saw Anya. 

"Am I funny looking or something?" Anya joked, spinning around. 

"No," Dmitry uttered, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm sure I look like a madman." 

"I'd be lying if I said you didn't," she muttered, ruffling her husband's messy, sweat-stained hair. He swatted at her hand. The other men laughed at the two. "I've got to go before Lily realizes I've gone. I saw you sitting over here and I thought  I'd say bonjour." 

"Speak the common man's language, Anya," he muttered as he stood up. Anya giggled as he kissed her forehead. "Now scoot. Lily's going to be worried." Anya stuck her tongue out at him and hurried back across the street. Dmitry shook his head before sitting down again. 

After five minutes, Dmitry was back to lifting, counting, and sealing the crates that were sitting on the dock. He glanced up, seeing Lily and Anya across the street. Anya was jabbering in French while Lily nodded. Dmitry chuckled to himself and lifted the crate in front of him. He plopped it down, then sealed it. He then passed it to one of the men that were loading the crates onto the ship. 

"Sudayev!" 

Dmitry's head snapped to the right, his eyes landing on his boss. 

"Yes, Sir?" Dmitry questioned. 

"Come here." 

* * *

 

Dmitry sighed in defeat as he entered the chateau he shared with his wife. He was frustrated. As it turned out, his boss had fired him. 

"Think of it as you're being given the chance to better yourself," he had said. "We have one too many men, and you are the one that was most recently hired." 

Dmitry looked down at the francs in his hand. How was he supposed to tell Anya he had been fired? He nearly broke down in tears. Dmitry put the francs on the table, as he always did, then went to the parlor. He sat down on the sofa and hit his knee with his fist. He then pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. He knew that when Anya returned, he'd have to tell her the truth. He couldn't lie to her. 

Dmitry chewed on his lower lip, forcing his tears back. 

 _What if she doesn't come back?_ A voice in his head nagged. 

He tried to ignore it. The longer he sat there, the more he started to believe it. By the time five o'clock rolled around, Dmitry had himself convinced that she wouldn't be coming back. When the door opened and closed, he didn't hear it. It was the steady  _click_ of her heels that caught his attention. 

"Dima?" 

Dmitry stayed silent. He held his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. He heard her enter the room. She sat down beside him. 

"Dima, what's wrong?" 

"He fired me," Dmitry sighed. "What are we going to do, Anya?" 

"We'll figure it out. Stop fretting," Anya spoke softly. He looked at her, then feigned interest in the floor. 

"I can't help but worry. My God, Anya, why would you want a life like this?" 

Anya's brows furrowed. She couldn't make him understand that she was happy being married to him. She didn't want titles or jewels, she wanted to be with him. She was happy being Anya Sudayeva. Well, that was her legal name, anyway. She couldn't exactly put Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova on the papers. That would cause too much trouble. 

Anya shook her head and wrapped her arms around Dmitry's shoulders. 

"Dmitry Antonovich Sudayev, why can't I make you understand that I'm happy with you?" 

"Because I don't deserve you," Dmitry sighed. 

"Stop saying that. I love you. Not some posh rich, aristocratic man that doesn't care about anything but my title," Anya insisted. "I love you, Dmitry. Why don't you take a hot bath, hm? You need to relax." 

Dmitry nodded, "Alright." He stood up, then bent down and kissed her. "I love you too." 


	2. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya has a nightmare. Dmitry's worry continues to grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this one isn't the best, but I swear it'll (hopefully) get better. Thank you to those who have read it and those of you who hit kudos and commented! It means a lot to me. Hope you like this chapter.

Dmitry jerked awake when Anya screamed. He sat up quickly, looking at her. She was turned on her side, sleeping. Dmitry shook her shoulder. 

"Anya! Wake up, Anya!" Dmitry exclaimed. Anya didn't wake up. She whined in her sleep, turning onto her back. Her brows were knitted together. Dmitry repeated the words, trying to get Anya to wake up. 

Anya's eyes snapped open. She sat up, then moved to where she sat on Dmitry's lap, her arms wrapped around him tightly. Her breathing was ragged. 

"Shh... shh, it's alright now. You're safe, darling." 

Anya cried into his shoulder. Dmitry tried to calm her down, rubbing her back and kissing her forehead while murmuring comforting phrases to her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, tears streaming down her face. She kept her arms wrapped tightly around him. She began to talk, but it was in French, and Dmitry couldn't understand her. She was talking so quickly, he could only catch a few words. 

"Anya, Anya, darling, listen to me, alright?" Dmitry spoke softly and calmly. Anya nodded. "I know whatever happened in that dream frightened you. You're alright now. I promise. Now, why don't you repeat everything you just said in Russian, hm?" 

"It was awful, Dima," her voice quivered as she spoke. "I-I was in the Ipatiev House again. I was in the cellar... I-I -- Dima, I don't want to remember." Anya sobbed. "Alexei looked so frightened, Olga tried to protect Maria, Tatiana stood in front of me. Papa and Mama looked horrified and helpless. I don't want to remember it." 

"Shh... shh..." Dmitry continued on in his attempt to calm her. 

"What if someone tries to kill me?" 

"Anya, listen to me. No one is going to hurt you, alright? I've got a pistol in that drawer over there that's loaded." 

Anya stayed where she was, crying and sobbing. Dmitry did nothing. He held her, rubbed her back and played with her hair, and let her cry. He knew it was useless trying to get her to stop. For ten years, she had been nobody with no family. Now she remembered who she was, and she had yet to grieve. Even though it broke his heart, he had to let her cry. 

Around thirty minutes later, she had fallen asleep, her head still tucked in the crook of his neck. Dmitry adjusted his pillow behind him and scooted back, his back meeting the headboard. Dmitry twirled Anya's hair around his finger and sighed. He loved her, but he'd never be enough. He couldn't give her anything. Not to mention he lost his job and was now faced with the struggle of finding a new one. Dmitry flinched at the thought. He knew most places didn't hire one who couldn't speak French. Dmitry was a Russian through and through. Russian was the only language he could speak. 

He tried to tell himself that it would get better. Dmitry bit his lower lip. What was he going to do? He was a man that couldn't speak French that was living in Paris and was desperate for a job.  _Tomorrow,_ he told himself,  _tomorrow you'll try to find a job. Maybe it'll pay better than the other one._

* * *

 

Dmitry buttoned his shirt and looked up when Anya entered the room, her hair wet. She smiled at him before plopping down on the settee in the room. Dmitry smiled as well, kissing her forehead. 

"Dima, do you have to go today?" Anya sighed. 

"Mhm," he hummed. "If I don't, we won't have enough to pay rent. I've got to go. I'll try the Neva Club first, alright?" She nodded. The Neva Club was only a five-minute walk, and everyone that went and worked there spoke Russian. 

"I don't want to be here alone today," she muttered. 

"I've taken care of that, too. Vlad and Lily will be here in five minutes." 

"Oh, how convenient. Do you think they get tired of coming here?" 

Dmitry paused for a moment, thinking about it. Hesitantly, he answered, "I dunno, Anya. Vlad likes playing chess with you. He says you're a worthy opponent and that I'm an amateur." Anya laughed and shook her head. 

"Well, I don't know about that. You beat me the other day," she chuckled. 

"That was only because you made the wrong move. I've gotta go. Love you." 

"Love you too, Dmitry." 

* * *

 

 

Dmitry sighed as he entered the Neva Club. 

"Dmitry! I was told you'd be stopping by. Uniform's in the back." 

Dmitry blinked and nodded dumbly. He headed to the back, thankful that Nikolay had been kind enough to give him a job. He wasn't sure how he had known he'd be there, but he figured Vlad and Lily had something to do with it. Dmitry hurried to change once he had found the uniform, then scowled. He had always hated the color white. If you brushed against a dusty wall, it would show on the material. 

"Can you cook, Sudayev?" Nikolay chuckled once Dmitry had exited the room. 

"Yes, why?" Dmitry responded quickly. 

"We need a cook. Now, let me show you where our ingredients, recipes, things like that are." 

* * *

 

 

"Oh no, Nana knows nothing about it," Anya spoke quickly. "For all she knows, Dmitry still works down there at the docks." 

Vlad and Lily glanced at each other. Anya looked down at the floor. 

"You mean your grandmother doesn't know that he lost his job?" Vlad inquired. Anya shook her head in response. "All you have to do is say the Neva Club has better pay. It does, it's not a lie. What he was making is absolutely ridiculous." 

Anya nodded. Vlad had a point. Dmitry worked every day (excluding Sunday) and barely made enough to make end's meet. She looked up at Lily and Vlad, her eyes shifting from Lily to Vlad. Anya sighed and put her right hand on top of the table, tapping the wood with her fingertips. 

"I'm afraid," she sighed in admittance. "Nana doesn't like Dmitry much anyway. He did step on her dress, after all." 

"He had good reasoning," Vlad muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Lily. "I was just saying." 

"Your grandmother is starting to like him," Lily pitched in. 

"Yes, he's gone from 'con man' to 'what's-his-face' within the past three months. It's going rather well," Anya remarked. "They're both as stubborn as mules." 

Vlad and Lily laughed, nodding in agreement. Anya laughed as well. She then glanced at the clock. Six o'clock. She frowned and stood up, heading to the kitchen. 

Anya managed to make soup. Lily scolded her for not letting her help. Anya's response was: "You're still a Countess. I am now a common woman, so it's my place to do the cooking. Not your's." Lily had rolled her eyes at that. 

At seven, the two bade Anya goodbye. Anya bade them goodbye as well, locking the door behind them. She hurried to the kitchen door, locking it as quickly as she could. Anya made sure to keep the soup warm. Dmitry would be there soon. Anya washed the dishes and put them in their rightful places before sitting at the table again. She watched for Dmitry, hoping that he would get there soon. 

* * *

 

 

"Alright, Dmitry, you're free to go." 

Dmitry huffed a sigh of relief and hurried to change. After changing, he left the Neva Club, heading for the small chateau he and Anya lived in. He pulled the key out of his pocket when the house was in sight, then stopped in front of the door, unlocking it. 

"Dmitry?" Anya's voice pierced the silence the moment he closed the door. 

"What?" Dmitry rounded the corner, entering the parlor. She was stretched out on the sofa. Anya sat up and smiled. 

"Sit down," Anya spoke quickly. Dmitry did as he was told. "I love you, you know that?" Anya mumbled, leaning against him. 

"I dunno, Anya. I can't recall you telling me that you love me," Dmitry joked. Anya rolled her eyes and giggled. Dmitry chuckled and kissed the top of her head. 

"You work at the Neva Club now?" 

"Yes." 

"Exciting?" Anya glanced up at him. 

"Not really," he muttered. "I'm a cook now." 

Anya quietly giggled and scooted closer to him. Dmitry looked down at her and sighed. He leaned back, which allowed her to easily put her head on his chest. Dmitry twisted a lock of her hair between his fingers. Anya wrapped her arms around his torso and hummed quietly. Dmitry knew the tune, he just couldn't remember where he had heard it. 

"The ballet, Dmitry," Anya muttered. 

"Hm?" 

"You heard it at the ballet." 

"Oh," he mumbled. 

* * *

 

 

"Anya?" Dmitry mumbled as he sat up. "Anya?" 

He pushed the covers off of him and stood up. He went to the kitchen, finding Anya there, staring out the window. Dmitry sighed and walked over to her. She turned quickly, gasping when she heard his footsteps. 

"Calm down, it's me," he murmured. Anya nodded, turning back to the window. "What's so interesting out there?" 

"The stars, I guess. What are you doing up?" Anya responded. 

"Well, I was looking for a beautiful young woman who also happens to be a royal. What are you doing up?" 

"Couldn't sleep," she groaned. "I thought maybe walking around would help but it hasn't. So, now I'm staring at the stars." 

"They are pretty, aren't they?" Dmitry looked down at her. She nodded. "They're not as pretty as you, though." 

Anya's cheeks flushed pink. Dmitry giggled and leaned down, kissing her reddened cheek. She gently hit his arm. 

"Stop making me blush," she mumbled. 

"You look cute when you blush, though," Dmitry argued. Anya huffed and turned to face him. Dmitry burst into laughter and kissed her. "I love you so much." 

"I love you too, Dima." She smiled up at him. "Do you still think..." 

"I do. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I'm going to be dealing with a cranky Grand Duchess in the morning if she doesn't get some sleep." Anya stuck her tongue out at him before walking off to the bedroom. Dmitry shook his head, an amused smile on his face. He glanced out the window before going to the bedroom. Anya was braiding her hair. He got back in bed and laid down, yawning. 

Anya soon laid down and sighed. She turned on her side, hoping she could fall asleep. 

"Anya." 

Anya turned to where she faced him. He kissed the tip of her nose and forced a smile. She smiled, quietly giggling. Dmitry wrapped his arm around her waist before drifting off to sleep. Anya played with the ring on his finger after she had turned over again. She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on a shadow. 

Anya fell asleep a few moments later. Within the moments she had been awake, she had managed to convince herself that the shadow was the shadow of a person who wanted to kill her. She was frightened. She couldn't get the thought out of her mind. Anya knew that somewhere - more than likely in Russia - someone did want to kill her. The probability of a good and loyal Russian going to Paris was very little. Especially after Gleb returned. Anya had tried to shake the thoughts away, only to fall into a restless sleep. 


	3. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry and the Dowager are forced to eat lunch together. Anya tries to convince Dmitry he is indeed good enough for her and that she loves him with all of her heart.

Anya hummed while she braided her hair, observing Dmitry as he tied his shoe. He looked better, Anya had to admit. He might have been working in the Neva Club, but he got to sleep more than he did when he worked at the docks. Anya got up on her knees and crawled over to him. Dmitry lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. 

He smiled and put his hand on the side of her face, gently rubbing her cheek with his thumb. Anya sighed happily. Dmitry's eyes scanned her face. He hummed in thought, putting his other hand on the left side of her face. Her brows furrowed. Dmitry then kissed her. Anya giggled. 

"You haven't said anything all morning. What's the matter?" he muttered. 

"Nothing," Anya chuckled. "I've just been thinking. You look a lot better than you did when you worked at the docks." 

"Um, thanks?" 

Dmitry stood up, stretching his arms above his head. He licked his chapped lips and walked over to the window. Anya rolled her eyes and walked over to him. Dmitry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, watching the people that walked the streets. 

Anya sneezed. She blinked in surprise, only to have Dmitry laugh. He grabbed his coat, pulling it on over his crisp white dress shirt. Anya smiled. 

"You ready?" she queried as she slipped her shoes on. 

"Anya, I'm never ready to see your grandmother," Dmitry sighed. Anya cocked her head to the side, raising a brow.  "Nothing against your grandmother, Anya. I'm certain she's a nice woman to those who did not step on her dress and tell her that God will judge her harshly." 

"What else did you say?" Anya inquired. 

"Um... That history already has. I might've called her an old woman, too." 

" _Dmitry,_ " Anya sighed exasperatedly. 

"I didn't intend on marrying her granddaughter at the time! My main concern was making sure you got your family back. At that point, I had intended on leaving and never returning," Dmitry babbled. Anya grabbed his hand and smiled at him. 

"And I thank you for getting her to talk to me. I'm glad I ran after you, you crazy man," Anya chimed. Dmitry quietly chuckled. He pecked her lips. "Let's go." 

* * *

 

Dmitry gulped as they approached the Dowager Empress's estate. He had grown accustomed to being called "whats-his-face," but he wasn't so sure it would stay that way. The Dowager Empress didn't like him, that much was certain. 

Anya squeezed his hand, smiling at him. Dmitry squeezed her hand as well. Anya knocked on the door. 

"Vlad, it's lovely to see you again," Anya smiled. "It's only been three days." 

"Indeed," Vlad nodded. "Come on in. Your grandmother wants to see you, Anya." 

* * *

 

Anya gasped. The silence that loomed over the room was one that was tense. Dmitry looked down at the table, forcing himself not to meet the Dowager's gaze. The old woman had insulted him yet again, and Dmitry hadn't said anything. He knew better. He might have lived on the Russian streets for most of his life, but he knew when to speak and when not to speak. 

The Dowager Empress happened to be in a bad mood that day and had promptly seated herself across from Dmitry. She glared at Dmitry. Dmitry had kept his gaze lowered while they ate. It was after the dishes had been cleared away by the maids had she made a remark about Dmitry. "A street rat marrying a Grand Duchess isn't all that common," she had said. 

Dmitry's attitude had changed. He had responded with, "And I've always heard royals were rude." Anya had lightly kicked him beneath the table, trying to chide him without saying anything. 

"And I've always heard con men never change," the Dowager retorted. That was what had caused the uncomfortably tense silence that now hung over the room. Dmitry bit the inside of his jaw, forcing himself not to say a word. Anya watched as Lily downed the remainder of her wine, then stood up. 

"Your Majesty, come with me." 

The Dowager stood and followed Lily out of the room. Vlad huffed a sigh of relief once the Countess and Dowager Empress had left. Dmitry sighed and glanced at Anya. The Dowager was right, he realized. Con men never change. 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry," Anya sputtered the moment Dmitry closed the door to their home. "I had no idea she'd say something like that." 

"It's alright," Dmitry assured her. "Stop fretting over it." 

He took his coat off as he entered the bedroom, throwing it in the corner. Anya sighed and sat down on the bed, taking her shoes off. Dmitry sighed and sat down on the window sill while untying his tie. He pulled it off and twisted it in his hands. Anya watched him as he shook his head, turning his head toward the window. 

"Dima," she sighed, "come here." 

"What for? So you can tell me that your grandmother's right? Tell me you've finally come to your senses. That you're going to leave?" Dmitry chuckled bitterly. A tear slid down his pale cheek. "If that's all it is, you can say it from where you are. I don't want to be beside you if you're going to leave." 

"Dmitry, I'm not going anywhere. Now come over here and sit down," Anya spoke sternly. Dmitry sighed and did as she said, sitting down beside her. Anya took his hand, entwining their fingers together. "Why would you think I'm going to leave?" Dmitry shrugged. 

"I'm not leaving you. I love you, Dmitry. I think that what Nana said is wrong. Just because you used to be a con man doesn't mean anything," Anya whispered. "You're my husband, Dmitry. I love you with all of my heart." 

"That doesn't mean anything, Anya. I can't give you anything," Dmitry countered.

"You've given me a home. Love. What more could a girl want?" 

"A lot of things." 

Anya huffed a sigh and scooted closer to him. She rubbed his hand and looked up at him. 

"I don't care about riches, Dmitry. I fell in love with you, I married you, and that makes me happy," Anya tried to explain. "I'm happy by simply being your wife. You're an amazing person, Dima. I don't want to be married to anyone but you. You say I should accept my title and marry an aristocrat, but I'm happily married already. I love you. Nothing's going to change that. What do I have to do or say to make you understand that?" 

Dmitry sighed as he lifted his eyes, meeting hers. He shrugged and shook his head. It had nothing to do with  _her,_ it was simply him and his feelings. He didn't know how to say it in a way that it would make sense, though. 

"Dima," she murmured, "I want you to understand that I'm happy with you. I don't need to attend the fancy parties or have jewels to be happy. Look at us, Dima. We live in this little chateau and I'm married to you, and I'm as happy as can be." 

Dmitry lowered his gaze and retracted his hand. As much as he wanted to believe her, his mind wouldn't let him. Anya wiped a stray tear off of his face. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. Dmitry lifted his gaze again. 

"Why can't I make you understand that I'm happy with you?" Anya pondered. 

"I don't know, Anya. I-I want to believe you, I do, but my mind won't let me," Dmitry mumbled in response. He swiftly added, "I hope that makes sense." 

Anya sighed again and placed her hand on the side of his face. Dmitry gulped. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, smiling. 

"I love you, Dmitry Antonovich Sudayev. I'm happy to be Anya Sudayeva. I love you with all of my heart," Anya whispered. 

"Well gee, Anya, I love you with all of my heart, I do, really, I do. I just can't believe you would love me," Dmitry admitted, lowering his gaze once more. 

"I love you very much, Dmitry. As long as I'm with you, I'd be happy living in a cave." 

"Anya--"

"Hush," she murmured softly. "I know that sounds silly, but it's true. I'd be happy living in a cave if we had to." 

"Anya--" 

"And I know it's strange, but it's true. I mean, gee--" 

Anya was cut off by Dmitry placing his lips on hers. 

"--I love you," she breathed. 

"I know," Dmitry nodded. "I know you love me. I know that you know I love you. It's not you that makes me think I'm not good enough, Anya. I - you haven't done anything that's made me think that. That's never been the case, not once has that been the issue. My God, Anya, it's just me. It doesn't make any sense, I know it doesn't, but it's just  _me._ " He looked down at the floor."I-it's not you. It's me. I'll never be enough for you, Anya. Never. If your grandmother had her way, you probably wouldn't be married to me. Your only living relative hates me, Anya." 

Anya leaned closer to him. Dmitry shook his head as another tear slid down his face. He swiftly wiped it away. 

"Dmitry, it's okay to cry," Anya muttered quietly in his ear. 

"I'm fine," he murmured. Dmitry licked his lips and swallowed before standing up, going to the window. Anya gazed at him, watching him as he put his arm against the wall, leaning against it. She stood up and strode over to him, grabbing his other arm and turning him around. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up at him. Dmitry's eyes were glazed with tears. 

"It's okay to cry," she repeated, standing on her tiptoes. Dmitry sniffed. Anya kissed him quickly. "What's the matter, Dima? You won't say anything." 

"If I do, I'll cry." Dmitry's voice was wobbly, trembling even. Anya felt a surge of pity for him. 

"It's alright to cry. It's just you and me," she spoke softly. Dmitry bit his lower lip and shook his head. A tear steadily made its way down his cheek, much like a raindrop did once it had hit the glass of the window. Anya retracted her arms, her eyes locked on his much like his eyes were locked on hers. Dmitry slowly nodded. Anya forced a smile, stepping back.

"I'll give you some time to think or cry... I-I'm going to go out for a walk." 

Dmitry nodded, "Alright. Be careful, alright?" She nodded and slipped her shoes on. Anya then left, leaving Dmitry alone with his thoughts. 

"Oh, Dmitry," he sighed, covering his face with his hands. He turned, seeing Anya walk down the street. He closed his eyes, allowing a few tears to escape. "You'll never be good enough for her." 


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry hides the fact that he has nightmares as often as Anya does. Anya worries about him and confides in Lily and Vlad. Lily talks to Dmitry. ~Please note one month has passed~

Dmitry sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. He threw the covers off of him and got out of bed, going to the washroom, where he turned the cold water on in the sink, splashing his face a few times. Dmitry took a shaky breath as he turned the water off again. He couldn’t tell Anya that he had nightmares like she did. She’d think he was a fool. A coward.

Dmitry was no coward, that much he was certain of. He didn’t care to stand up to Bolshevik officers or to lose his life protecting Anya. He shuddered at the thought. Death wasn’t his greatest fear. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, yes, but he wouldn’t say he was  _afraid_ to die. His greatest fear was that Anya would be hurt. He couldn’t imagine anyone who would want to hurt her, but he knew that if there was one Red Russian around, they’d try to kill her. 

And that was what fueled his nightmares. 

His fear that while he was gone, someone would break in and harm Anya. He couldn’t very well keep her safe while he was trying to provide for them. Granted, Dmitry hadn’t really thought much about that when he worked at the docks. Now he thought about it constantly, and it only caused him trouble. He hadn’t slept for more than three hours per night because of the nightmares he had. 

Dmitry was jerked back into reality when Anya started to scream. Dmitry ran back to the bedroom, nearly heaving a sigh of relief when he realized it was only a nightmare. He shook her awake before getting back into bed. Anya turned over and scooted closer to him, putting her head on his chest. 

He stroked her hair, trying to calm her down. It seemed to work for a while. Anya drifted into a peaceful sleep. Dmitry had soon drifted off as well, though his sleep was restless and filled with images of Anya being hurt. 

He gave up on sleep after he woke up again, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Dmitry wiped it away, then stared at the ceiling. 

Anya softly snored, causing him to smile. He knew that she thought something was wrong with him. He hardly ate anything anymore, which made her worry. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t do much of anything. He didn’t want Anya to worry, and yet, she was worried about him. There was no reason to be worried. They were just nightmares, after all. 

But he knew how easily nightmares could become reality. He had watched the Bolsheviks kill his father when he was ten. He had watched his mother die when he was six. He had been on his own ever since. Then came the day when he saved Vladimir Popov’s life, knocking him out of the aim of a firing squad. 

Dmitry’s life hadn’t been easy or what was considered normal in any way. He was stuck as Dmitry Antonovich Sudayev. A man who was orphaned at ten, leaving him alone on the streets of St. Petersburg to fend for himself. 

Anya stirred and blinked a few times. Dmitry hadn’t noticed she had woken up. She groggily muttered, “Dima, are you alright? Your heart’s beating awful fast.” 

“I’m fine, Anya,” he assured her. Anya hummed sleepily, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Go back to sleep.” She slowly nodded and closed her eyes, snoring mere seconds after doing so. Dmitry chuckled. He supposed he could keep his secret a bit longer. 

* * *

 

“Dmitry, tell me what’s wrong,” Anya pleaded, playing with Dmitry’s short chestnut brown hair. 

“Nothing, Anya,” he murmured. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine.” 

Anya sighed, “Please?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dmitry repeated. “Everything is just fine.” 

Anya huffed and lowered her arm, putting her head on his shoulder. She then took hold of his hand and twisted the ring on his finger. Dmitry watched her while she twisted his wedding ring on his finger. 

Dmitry yawned. Anya’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t done anything to make him tired, he hadn’t been to work yet, and to her knowledge, he slept well the previous night. Dmitry took his right hand and stroked Anya’s hair. 

Anya hummed in content and shifted to get comfortable. Dmitry caught himself dozing off. Anya noticed it. She always noticed when something… strange, for lack of better term, was going on. Dmitry was hiding something. Dmitry took his right hand and rubbed his eyes. 

“I’ve got to go,” he murmured. “I’m gonna be late.” 

* * *

 

“Lily, I’m worried,” Anya muttered. Lily raised a brow and shifted in her seat. “He thinks I don’t notice something’s wrong, but I do, and he won’t tell me anything.” 

Lily’s relaxed posture faltered. She sat up straight and leaned forward, asking, “What do you mean?” 

“Dmitry! He doesn’t get much sleep anymore and I don’t know why. He tells me he can’t sleep, but it’s because he won’t sleep, Lily. I don’t know _why_ he practically refuses to sleep!” Anya exclaimed. 

Lily grabbed the girl’s hand and forced a smile. She rubbed the back of Anya’s hand, turning toward the door when it opened. Vlad entered with an exhausted Dmitry behind him. 

“Dima?” Anya uttered. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. 

Anya looked to Vlad, who shrugged. Lily sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could see why Anya was worried. Dmitry went to the bedroom. 

"Anya, I want to know what's been going on, and I want to know _now_ ," Vlad demanded. Anya tapped her fingers on the surface of the table she and Lily were sitting at. Vlad sat down beside her. 

"I don't entirely know, Vlad. He's been... distant, I guess. It's been like this for a month. That day at Nana's, that's when it started. I left and went for a walk because I knew he wanted to be alone. When I came back, he was already in bed, sleeping. I didn't think much of it. It was late, it had been a long day. The night after that, I went to bed at midnight. He was still awake, he claimed he was going to wash the dishes that I had left in the sink. I had intended on doing them Tuesday morning, but he wouldn't leave them alone. I don't know what's wrong with him. He's never acted like this." 

Vlad raised a brow, "Dmitry wouldn't listen to you?" She shook her head. "Something's definitely wrong, then." 

Lily pursed her lips while she listened to Anya and Vlad. She knew they were both worried. If she was to be honest with them, she was worried too. Dmitry was acting odd. It wasn't like him to shrug Anya off the way he did. She stood up, unnoticed by the Count and Grand Duchess. She then went to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Dmitry turned his head toward her. Lily sighed and sat down on the settee. Dmitry knew Lily hadn't come in the room to have one of the friendly gossip-filled conversations she enjoyed. No, this one was going to be much more serious. Sort of like the conversation that had taken place between the Dowager Empress and himself. 

"What's the matter with you, Dmitry?" Lily questioned. Dmitry shrugged. "I know you can talk." 

"Why does everyone think something's wrong?" Dmitry grumbled. 

"Because you're acting different, Dmitry. Not in a good way, either." 

* * *

 

Anya turned to talk to Lily, only to find that she was gone. She tapped Vlad's shoulder, staring at the spot where Lily had been sitting mere moments ago. Vlad let out an inquisitive 'hm' and turned to look at what Anya was staring at. His eyes widened and his head swiveled toward the bedroom door. His brows furrowed in confusion and he stood up, walking over to the door. 

* * *

 

Dmitry stared at Lily, not knowing what to say. He lowered his gaze and shrugged. Dmitry wanted to get out of the situation he was in. He didn't want anyone to know what was going on with him. He hadn't been acting all that strange, had he? 

"Talk to me, Dmitry," Lily's voice pierced the silence. 

"What's there to talk about?" Dmitry sniffed. 

"Why you're acting so strange." 

"I'm not acting strange." 

"You've got Anya worried, Dmitry. I've noticed you're acting strange. It's not like you," Lily told him. Dmitry lifted his head and glanced at Lily. "Tell me what's wrong. Or you can pour it all out to the Dowager." 

"No thanks," Dmitry mumbled. "That woman hates me. Can't say I blame her, though." 

Lily watched him as he moved to the window. He didn't look at her, but he did speak. 

"All it is... it's fear, I guess. Fear that fuels things like nightmares and sleepless nights to prevail. I can't sleep because of it. I don't want Anya to worry, so I try to handle it myself. I just want Anya to be safe and happy. God, I never meant to make her worry," Dmitry confessed. 

Lily seemed to understand. She stood up and put her hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. 

"Can I offer you three words of advice?" Lily requested. Dmitry nodded. "Talk to her." 

Dmitry turned his head toward Lily and muttered, "I will." 

Lily patted his shoulder and left the room, leaving Dmitry alone. 

* * *

 

Anya glanced at Dmitry when she entered the bedroom that evening. He had already fallen asleep, his face buried in his pillow. She smiled as she slipped under the covers beside him. She turned to where she faced him, observing him while he slept. 

"It's rude to stare, you know," he mumbled, opening one of his eyes. Anya's face turned crimson in color. Dmitry giggled and turned over. 

"Sorry." 

"It's alright," he chuckled. Anya pulled at a loose string on Dmitry's shirt. Dmitry kissed her forehead. Anya smiled. "I love you, you know that?" 

"Mhm," she hummed. "I love you too." Anya twisted the string around her finger and pulled at it again. It snapped, remaining twisted around her finger. Anya put the string in Dmitry's hair, smiling as she did so. 

"Thank you, Anya." 

"Welcome," she laughed. He watched as her smile faltered, a more concerned expression taking over. "What's wrong with you, Dmitry?" 

"I'll tell you in the morning, alright? I promise," Dmitry murmured. Anya nodded. "Sleep well, Anya."  


	5. In Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry tells Anya the truth. Anya goes out in the middle of the night without a coat and gets sick. She doesn’t admit it, though.

Anya groaned as she entered the parlor, plopping down in the armchair closest to the fireplace. Dmitry looked up at her (as he had been folding his shirts) and smiled.

“Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” he teased. Anya rolled her eyes. 

“Stop teasing me and start telling me what I want to know.” 

“A fear can fuel nightmares and cause you to be so paranoid you don’t sleep a wink. That’s all it is, Anya. I worry about something and it keeps me up and causes nightmares. It’s no big deal,” Dmitry explained, shrugging as though it was nothing. 

He went back to folding shirts. Anya stayed close to the fireplace. She was cold. She watched Dmitry and uttered, “Oh. You could’ve told me, Dima.” 

Dmitry glanced up at her. “I didn’t want you to worry. I guess that didn’t work.” 

Anya chuckled. Dmitry threw one of his shirts at her. Anya took it and wrapped it around her. He got up, picking up the neatly stacked shirts and walking out of the room. Anya shivered. 

Dmitry returned to the parlor with his coat. He pulled Anya to her feet, taking the shirt that hung loosely on her shoulders. He then wrapped his coat around her. Dmitry folded the shirt and tossed it onto the sofa. 

Anya shivered again. Dmitry wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back. 

“Cold?” Dmitry murmured, placing his head on top of hers. Anya nodded. “I thought so. You’re shaking.” 

“I think I’ve become used to summer weather,” she mumbled. Dmitry nodded. It was easy to get used to the pleasant weather. The weather that was warm and sunny and… well, everything the weather in Russia wasn’t. 

“You’ll get used to the cold too,” he told her. “You’ll see.” 

* * *

 

Anya slipped her shoes on and walked out of the room, going directly to the front door. She stood on the small veranda of their home in the middle of the night, her silk nightgown billowing in the bitterly cold wind. 

She’d had another nightmare. This time, it was worse. It had been more violent than the others. It had made her feel claustrophobic when she woke up, so she acted on impulse and ran out the door. She needed to breathe. 

The issue was that she hadn’t thought to grab her shawl or Dmitry’s wool coat. She stood there for a few moments, eyes closed, simply breathing in and out. Her chest rose and fell steadily. 

Anya wasn’t sure how long she stood there. What she did know was that when Dmitry pulled the door open, looking panicked, he seemed both relieved and upset. Dmitry grabbed her arm (which felt like ice) and pulled her inside. 

“What are you doing out there?!” Dmitry demanded. 

“I had to get out for a while. I-they’re getting worse,” she whispered. 

“I thought something had happened to you! Don’t scare me like that,” Dmitry lowered his voice. 

Anya hung her head, rubbing her hands against her bare arms in an attempt to warm her skin. She glanced up at Dmitry, but quickly averted her gaze. 

“I’m sorry, Anya,” Dmitry mumbled. “I just… ugh, never mind.” Anya nodded. “Now come on. You need to get some sleep.” 

Anya giggled when Dmitry swept her off her feet, carrying her to the bedroom. He set her down on the bed and took her shoes off. He kissed her forehead before putting her shoes in the corner of the room.  

* * *

 

Anya groaned as she awoke, her head pounding. Dmitry stepped into the room, his brows furrowing when he saw his wife. 

"What's wrong with you?" Dmitry inquired as he sat down beside her, smoothing her hair off of her forehead. 

"My head hurts," she whined, pulling the covers over her head. Dmitry sighed and shook his head, standing and drawing the curtains. He then pulled the blanket off of Anya's head. "Dima," she groaned. 

"I drew the curtains," he spoke softly, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. "Oh my God, Anya, you're burning up." 

Anya shifted in discomfort. She opened her eyes, looking up at Dmitry. Her eyes were weak. Dmitry knew she had made herself ill. That was the easiest thing to realize. She had been standing outside in the cold in the middle of the night for a while without a coat or shawl or any source of protection against the bitter Parisian winds. 

"Come on, I'll draw you a bath," he whispered. "It'll help you, I hope." 

Anya sat up and immediately rubbed her temples, trying to soothe her pounding headache. Dmitry had left the room. She could hear water running in the near silent chateau. He returned a moment later and picked her up, carrying her to the washroom. When he set her on her feet, she leaned against him, her head pressed against his chest. 

Dmitry sighed and ran his fingers through her sweaty hair. Anya whined, burying her face in his chest, murmuring, "I'm fine. It's just a headache." 

"And fever," Dmitry added. "Stand up, darling." Anya stood up straight. Dmitry bent over and turned the water off. He kissed her forehead and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Anya relaxed after slipping into the tub. She stayed like that for a few moments, then decided to wash her hair. She had always hated it when her hair was sweaty. 

On the way to Paris, Dmitry had asked her why. She had said it made her feel icky. Dmitry laughed and muttered an 'okay' after that. 

After washing her hair and dressing, Anya stepped out of the washroom. Her head was still pounding, but she tried to ignore it. She shuffled to the bedroom, blinking when she saw the bed was neatly made. The blanket had been folded down, which would allow one to easily slide beneath the covers and pull them above their head, hiding from the hazy sunlight that filled the room. 

Anya shuffled over to the settee and plopped down, wanting to watch the people on the streets for a while. It was interesting, she had to admit. She enjoyed seeing the Russians who had just gotten off of the train, the Americans, and Englishmen who were there for a while to relax, the French who loved their city. 

Anya hadn't noticed that Dmitry had entered the room, a glass of water in his hands. He tapped on her shoulder, causing her to whirl around quickly. She squeezed her eyes shut, as she had done nothing but cause her headache to worsen, and grunted. Dmitry looked down at her apologetically, handing her the glass in his hands. Anya forced a smile before taking a sip of it. 

"Do you feel any better?" Dmitry murmured. 

"Yes," Anya lied. Dmitry raised a brow. She sighed, "Not really. My head's pounding." 

Dmitry crouched down in front of her and put the back of his hand on her forehead. 

"You're burning up," he mumbled. "How long were you out there last night?" Anya shrugged. 

"I dunno," she uttered in response. "A while, I guess." 

Dmitry lowered his hand, watching her as she took another sip of water. She licked her lips after doing so. 

"Dima, is there a way to get rid of a headache?" Anya inquired. 

"Not that I know of," Dmitry responded. "Sorry." 

"It's alright." 

* * *

Dmitry opened the door, sighing in relief when he saw Lily. 

"What happened to her?" Lily sighed the second she stepped inside. 

"She went outside last night. She didn't have a coat or shawl, and she's made herself ill. Try to keep her in bed, would you?" Dmitry looked at Lily. She nodded. "You're amazing, Lily Malevsky-Malevitch." 

"Why thank you, Dmitry Antonovich Sudayev. Where is she?" 

"Sleeping. Oh, and she's just like her grandmother when she's in a bad mood. Just so you know." Dmitry closed the door behind him as he left. 

Lily heaved a sigh and headed for the bedroom, settling on the settee in the room. She glanced over at Anya. She was still sleeping, her head on what Lily guessed was Dmitry’s pillow. 

Anya jerked awake, sitting up straight and wiping the sweat off of her forehead. Lily got up and hurried over to her. Anya blinked and her brows furrowed. 

“Why don’t you lie back down, hm? You’ll feel much better if you rest,” Lily spoke softly and calmly, trying to coax the girl into laying down. Anya looked around the room and craned her neck as though she was looking for someone. 

“Where’s Dima?” Anya asked.

“He had to go to work, dear. That’s why I’m here. Now lay down and rest, Anya.” 

Anya huffed and crossed her arms. “I am a grown woman, Lily. I can take care of myself.” Lily slapped her hand against her forehead. Dmitry wasn’t lying when he said she was like the Dowager. 

“I know, dear, but you need to rest if you want to get better,” Lily tried to convince her. Anya, though weak and sweaty, leaned back against the headboard and purses her lips. 

“No. I don't want to," Anya stated. Lily huffed a sigh. She went and retrieved a glass of water for the Grand Duchess, handing it to her once she had returned. "Thank you, Lily." 

Lily nodded and seated herself on the foot of the bed. Anya observed Lily while she drank her water. She set the water on the bedside table and laid down like Lily had asked her to. 

"Lily?" Anya mumbled. 

"Yes, dear?" Lily turned her head toward her. 

"You knew my family, didn't you?" 

"Why yes, I did." 

"Tell me about them," Anya muttered. "I want to know all about Mama and Papa when they were younger. I'm afraid I can't remember much except that night in the Ipatiev House. I want to remember more than that." 

"Alright, I'll tell you about them," Lily smiled. "What do you want to know?" 

"Everything,"  the young woman sighed. "I want to know everything." 

"Alright." 

* * *

 

When Dmitry returned, he heard Anya giggling. He smiled and shook his head, shrugging his coat off as he walked to the bedroom. Anya gasped when she saw him. 

"Dima! Dima, you won't believe the stories Lily's told me," she exclaimed. 

"Is that so?" Dmitry mused, putting his coat on the settee. Anya nodded, then winced after doing so. "I see you still have a headache." He padded over to her, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. "That fever's still there too." 

"I'm afraid I must be going," Lily sighed. "I won't mention that Anya's ill. I know you don't want me to." 

"Thank you, Lily," Dmitry murmured. Lily nodded and left. "My poor darling," he sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Anya's ear. 

Anya wrinkled her nose. Dmitry quietly giggled and kissed her forehead, whispering, "Get some sleep." Anya nodded, laying down and turning onto her side. 

"Dima?" 

"Hm?" Dmitry whipped around to face her again. 

"I love you," she mumbled sleepily. Dmitry chuckled. 

"I love you too, Anya." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Can I ask a favor of those who read it? Can you please review it? No hate, please.


	6. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya’s fever causes her to be a bit delirious. Dmitry learns about what happened with Gleb.

Dmitry placed the cool cloth on Anya’s forehead, smoothing her sweaty hair back. Anya moaned and shifted. He sighed as he adjusted the cloth. He had to get her fever to break. Or at least lower. It was getting to the point where she was becoming delirious. 

 “Mama,” Anya mumbled. Dmitry blinked. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know how to deal with someone who was delirious with a fever. He’d taken care of people who were ill with fevers before, yes, but he’d never had someone with a fever so high they were delirious. He’d always managed to get the fever to break before they became delirious. 

Anya opened her eyes. Fear and panic filled them. She whispered, “Gleb.” 

Dmitry wasn’t sure if she thought he was Gleb or if she thought Gleb was standing near him. He knew something had happened between her and Gleb after the ballet. Every time he mentioned the Bolshevik, her muscles would become tense and she would hurry to change the subject. 

“Don’t you see him, Dima? He’s right behind you!” 

Dmitry sat on the edge of the bed beside her, his brows furrowed. Anya started to sputter, trying to form words while she pointed to the doorway. 

“Anya, it’s just you and me. We’re the only people in this house,” Dmitry cooed softly. Anya shook her head, staring and pointing at the doorway. “Anya--” 

“He’s right there,” Anya started to cry. “He’s going to kill me!” 

Anya sat up, throwing the covers off of her and tossing the cloth that was on her forehead to the side. Anya was breathing heavily. 

"Anya, listen to me, alright? You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. Gleb's not in Paris, Anya. He's still in Russia." 

"N-no, Dmitry, he was here," Anya stammered. 

"What do you mean?" Dmitry questioned, pulling Anya onto his lap. She put her head on his shoulder, pressing her forehead against his neck. 

"He was in Paris," she began. "He had been sent here after me. H-he tr-tried to kill me!" 

Dmitry held her close, piecing her story and delusion together. He didn't say anything. He knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid that Gleb hadn't left Paris and that he'd come there to kill her. 

"Dima, he's going to kill me," she sobbed. 

"No, he isn't," Dmitry whispered, rubbing her arm. Anya closed her eyes, only to open them again. "Anya?" 

"I'm--Dmitry, I--" Anya cut herself off with a sob. "--I don't know what to do." 

* * *

 

"How is she?" Lily whispered as she entered the room. 

"Delirious," Dmitry sighed in response, covering Anya with the blanket. 

"Don't you think she should see a doctor?" 

"I've tried calling the only Russian doctor I know of in this city. No one answered." 

Lily hummed as she walked over to where Anya was. Anya's head was turned to the left, her chest rising and falling evenly as she slept. Her cheeks were red, her pale skin paler than usual. Lily blanched at the sight of her. 

"I know of a good Russian doctor," she murmured. "I'll call for him." 

Dmitry nodded and watched as she hurried out of the room. He turned back to Anya, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. She groaned in her sleep and rolled onto her side. Dmitry was worried about her. She had cried and sobbed earlier, telling him what had happened in the Ipatiev House. Even though he had told himself he'd never pity her, he did in those moments. 

Dmitry sighed and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. He chewed on his lower lip and glanced at the doorway. Lily hurried back into the room, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. 

"He'll be here soon. Vlad's coming over as well." 

Dmitry nodded. He looked back to Anya. Lily could see how scared he was. Though Dmitry would never admit it or give reasoning for his fear, he was frightened. The last time he saw his mother, she had been delirious with fever. 

Dmitry sat down on the edge of the bed. Lily had seated herself on the settee and was watching the people on the street. The front door opened and shut. An exclamation of, "Dmitry!" piercing the silence. 

"In here, Vlad," Dmitry called out. Vlad entered the room a second later. 

"My God," the former count whispered. 

* * *

 

"Dima," Anya groaned, turning over to where she faced him. 

"What is it?" Dmitry mumbled groggily, trying to wake himself up. 

"It hurts," she whimpered. 

"I know it does, darling," he murmured. Anya scooted closer to him. Dmitry ran his hand through her sweat-stained hair, hushing her. Anya whimpered against the fabric of his shirt. Dmitry wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. 

"Dima," she muttered, "it hurts. A lot." 

"Shh... shh," Dmitry cooed softly. "It's alright. You'll start feeling better in a few days." 

"You promise?" Anya looked up at him. 

"I promise." 


	7. Nightmare / Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry has a nightmare after convincing himself that he's nothing but a con and that it's all he'll ever be. Anya tries to comfort him. Anya also decides to try something new. ~Warning: It's slightly violent; descriptions of someone who has been shot~

Dmitry tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. He had managed to convince himself that he was nothing but a con man and that it was all he would ever be. A Russian con man who didn’t really know what he was doing, but still managed to get by. 

It wasn’t that Dmitry wasn’t smart. No, that wasn’t the case at all. It was simply that sometimes the little white lies he told slipped his mind and he ended up slipping as well, causing a con to fail completely. Like he had done with Anya when they first arrived in Paris. 

He glanced up at her when she entered the parlor, sitting down in the armchair across from his. She smiled at him. Dmitry returned the smile before getting up and stoking the fire. He had been meaning to do it before she came into the parlor, but he had forgotten about it once he had started thinking. 

“Are you alright, Dmitry?” 

He turned his head toward her and nodded. He threw another log in the fireplace before sitting down. Anya watched him curiously. She knew Dmitry always doubted himself and had always managed to convince himself that things were true. For example, he had convinced himself that he wasn’t good enough for her. Anya hated that he thought he was lower than she was. 

Dmitry glanced at her, forcing a smile. His lips were pressed together and Anya could see that the smile was forced. Dmitry’s fake smiles were usually so good she couldn’t tell if they were real or not. This time, however, he wasn’t so good at it. 

“What’s wrong?” Anya inquired, shifting in her chair. Dmitry shrugged in response. He didn’t want to tell her the truth. How could he? She had given up her title and a life of luxury for a con man. It had been that way for nearly a year. 

Dmitry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Anya noticed his discomfort. 

"Did I do something?" 

"No, God, no, you didn't do anything," Dmitry spoke quickly. 

"Then what is it?" Anya questioned quietly. 

"It's nothing," he mumbled in response. Anya raised a brow, but she didn't say anything. Dmitry huffed and gave up on trying to get comfortable. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. Anya shook her head and turned her attention to the flames as well. She knew that when Dmitry acted like that, something had happened or he had thought of something he thought to be true that wasn't pleasant. She supposed she could wait to ask him. 

* * *

Dmitry jumped in surprise when he saw Anya sitting up, reading. 

"What are you doing up?" he mumbled, shrugging his coat off. 

"Waiting for you," Anya responded, closing the book. 

Dmitry grimaced. He tossed his coat on the settee and sat down, unlacing his boots. He sat them in the corner, then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his undershirt and suspenders. 

"What for?" Dmitry spoke the words so quietly Anya barely heard him. 

"I want to know what's wrong." 

"Oh," Dmitry grumbled. "I'll be right back." 

Anya set the book in her hands on the bedside table. Dmitry returned a moment later, dressed in his pajamas. He sat down beside her on the bed and sighed. Anya took his hand and rubbed it with her thumb. Anya put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. 

"Tell me what's wrong, Dima," she murmured. 

"Nothing's wrong, Anya," he forced a chuckle. 

Anya knew he was lying. Dmitry wasn't a very good liar when he was lying to her. 

"Tell me the truth, Dmitry," Anya sighed, sitting up straight. 

"It's nothing, Anya," Dmitry's voice was strained. "I'm going to sleep. Love you." He kissed her forehead and laid down, turning on his side. His back faced her. 

"Love you too," Anya whispered before laying down, turning to where her back faced him as well. A single tear slid down her face silently. She nearly scolded herself for crying. Well, she did it mentally. She nearly spoke the words out loud, which would have caused Dmitry to more than likely think she was crazy. Anya shook the thought away and closed her eyes. 

* * *

 

"Anya?" 

Dmitry slowly approached his wife, slowly reaching out to her. His hand clasped her shoulder and turned her around. Her face was ghostly pale, the white dress she was wearing had a blood stain in the center of her torso. He looked down at it, seeing a hole in the center of the stain. 

Dmitry stopped breathing. Anya looked up at him, her eyes cold. Dmitry stumbled back and gulped. She had been shot. His eyes were as wide as saucers, he knew, but he didn't care.  _Anya had been shot._

"Anya," he breathed, his back hitting the wall. She slowly - ever so slowly - walked over to him, her hands grabbing his exposed biceps, almost as though she was daring him to move from where he was standing. Her hands were as cold as ice, he noted. Dmitry's breathing was ragged. 

"Anya," Dmitry repeated, "what-what happened to you?" 

"I was shot, Dmitry," her voice echoed. "I never stood a chance against that Red Russian. I should have known better." Anya chuckled bitterly. "It's such a shame. I never knew where you were when I was shot." 

"Anya--" 

"You said you'd keep me safe, Dmitry Sudayev. I married you, trusting you would be there for me.  _You left me._ " She turned her head toward a crib in the room. Dmitry turned his head as well, seeing the crib. He looked back at her and opened his mouth to speak. "No, Dmitry. You left both of us. He never meant any harm." 

Anya slowly leaned closer to him. She hissed, "What did we ever do to you, you coward?" 

* * *

 

" _Dmitry!_ " 

He sat upright, breathing heavily. 

"Anya... oh my God," he breathed. He could hear his heart thundering against his rib cage. 

Anya sat on her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck in an attempt to comfort him. Dmitry had started to hyperventilate. 

"Shh... shh, it was just a nightmare," Anya cooed, running her fingers through his hair. Dmitry shook his head. "Shh... you're alright now." 

"An-Anya, l-l-listen to m-me, i-it w-asn't just a n-nightmare," he sobbed, throwing his arms around her waist. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the sobs that wracked his body and to stop the tears that flowed freely down his face. 

Anya kept her arms wrapped around him tightly, playing with his hair. Whatever it was, it had frightened him terribly. Dmitry was muttering incoherent words. Anya tried to hush him, well, she tried to calm him. 

"It's alright, Dima. It was just a dream," Anya muttered in his ear. "It's alright, darling." 

"It's not alright," Dmitry pulled out of the embrace. He stood up and pulled his hair. "It's not alright at all. You-you don't know what I see  _every night,_ Anya!" 

Anya didn't say a word, even though Dmitry was raising his voice. 

"Every night, it's the same thing! You don't know what I have to see when I close my eyes! I don't want to sleep because of it!" 

"Dima--" 

"It's awful." Dmitry seemed to deflate, leaning against the wall. "You don't know how awful it is, Anya," his voice had lowered to a strained whisper. 

"Dmitry, why don't you talk about it? It might make it go away," Anya murmured. Dmitry shook his head. He had tried that already. Vlad knew of the nightmares and had sworn not to say a word about them. 

"It doesn't," he sighed. "I've already tried." 

* * *

 

"Vladimir Popov!" 

Vlad turned his attention to the Grand Duchess as she entered the room. Vlad stood and smiled at her. 

"What is it, Anya?" His smile faltered when he saw the troubled expression on her face. Anya closed the door and sat down in one of the chairs in the room. She shrugged and rubbed her temples. "Dmitry?" Slowly, she nodded. 

"I don't know what's wrong with him. He won't talk to me!" Anya closed her eyes and shook her head. "I thought he trusted me, but I'm not so sure anymore." 

"He trusts you, Anya. His nightmares... that's what it's about, isn't it?" Vlad inquired. She nodded. Vlad hummed thoughtfully. 

"If he trusts me, why won't he _talk_ to me?" Anya queried. 

"His nightmares are his fears, Anya. What he sees in his dreams are the things he fears the most. He'll talk to you eventually, my dear. He's afraid. Dmitry might have been a con man and he might not be afraid of death, but he does have fear. Watch and see... he'll talk to you about them soon enough. Just... try to be patient with him, Anya." 

Anya nodded. She forced a smile and thanked Vlad before standing. She had started to walk toward the door, then turned and asked, "What if he doesn't?" 

"He will," Vlad assured her. "Dmitry will talk to you about it." 

* * *

 

"Ouch!" Dmitry shouted, drawing his hand back quickly. "Curse it!" 

"Dmitry?" 

Dmitry sighed and turned his head toward her. He forced a smile and picked the hammer up again. Anya couldn't help but laugh as she sat down beside him on the floor. Dmitry huffed and put the hammer back in the small wooden box he kept it in. He smiled at her before proclaiming, "I got the chair fixed." 

Anya laughed heartily and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She hummed before kissing his cheek. Dmitry looked at her and smiled. 

"I love you, Dima," Anya mused, her chin resting on his shoulder. 

"I love you too, Anya," he smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. 

"Oh good," she murmured, retracting her arms. She readjusted her head, simply leaning against him. She yawned and sat up straight. Dmitry chortled before standing up. He offered his hand to her. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. 

"Why don't you go take a nap? You look like you need one," he mumbled. Anya nodded and shuffled to the bedroom. "Pick your feet up before you land flat on your face!" 

* * *

 

" _Nana!_ " 

Anya wrapped her arms around the old woman's neck, a delighted giggle escaping her lips. She pulled back and allowed her grandmother to enter the house. 

Dmitry, who had just finished bathing, stepped out of the washroom, his hair soaked. Water droplets were spread across his forehead. He was buttoning his shirt, as he hadn't noticed the Dowager. Or at least he didn't notice her until she scoffed. 

"Oh God," he muttered. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I didn't know you were here." His cheeks flushed red. 

"Well, I figured that," she spoke haughtily, rolling her eyes. Dmitry forced a smile before hurrying to the bedroom. 

"Oh, Nana," Anya sighed. "Why don't you like him?" 

"I have my reasons." 

Dmitry walked out of the room moments later, muttering an, "Excuse me," as he hurried to the door. Anya walked over to him and kissed him quickly. 

"I'll see you later." She nodded and watched as he left. 

"I thought he worked at the docks," the Dowager remarked. 

"No, he works at the Neva Club now. It's better pay and he isn't killing himself every day," Anya muttered. The Dowager pursed her lips and walked to the parlor, sitting down on the sofa. 

Anya followed, sitting down beside her on the sofa. 

"I don't know what you see in that man," the Dowager sighed. 

"He's a good man, Nana," Anya smiled. "Dmitry's got a good heart." 

" _Dmitry_ didn't have a good heart when he dragged you here." 

"He was desperate to get out of Russia. He's changed, Nana. He's not the con man he used to be." 

The Dowager hummed and nodded slightly. Even if she didn't like Dmitry, her granddaughter was in love with him and had married him. She tried to get along with him, just enough to make Anya happy. It was extremely hard when she was in a bad mood, however. 

Anya hummed the Romanov lullaby while standing and going to fix her grandmother some tea. The Dowager chuckled as she watched her granddaughter walk out of the room. Anya went to the kitchen, grabbing the teapot that she and Dmitry never used. She brewed some tea, waltzing around the kitchen while she waited. She stopped a moment later, grabbing the chair she had left in the kitchen and climbing upon it. Once she stood up straight, she opened the cabinet and grabbed a mug. 

"Good Heavens, what are you doing?!"

Anya nearly dropped the mug but managed to catch it before it shattered. She hopped down and laughed at Lily's expression. 

"We don't have a ladder that will fit in the house, Lily," Anya chuckled. "Do you want some tea?" 

"I'd rather you stay on the ground. Does Dmitry know you stand on that chair?" 

"No," Anya responded. "He nearly caught me yesterday, though. I'm a very short woman, Lily. I can't reach the top shelf." 

"That's why you have Dmitry," Lily grinned. Anya nearly jumped out of her skin when the teapot started to whistle. Lily cackled with laughter. Anya laughed as well while she poured the hot liquid into the mug. 

She excused herself and took it to her grandmother. Anya sat down again, knowing Lily would be in the parlor within thirty seconds. 

"Oh! Your Majesty, I didn't--" 

"I know," the Dowager smiled. "Neither did what's-his-face." Lily shook her head and sat down in her favorite armchair. 

"Speaking of Dmitry, how is he?" Lily asked. 

"He says he's fine, but I don't think he is," Anya shrugged in response. The Dowager raised a brow. "He's not as carefree as he used to be." 

Lily raised a brow. Dmitry always had a carefree spirit, but he had a good head on his shoulders as well. He was responsible, a bit childish at times, but he was a very responsible young man. Dmitry worked to keep a roof over Anya's head, to provide for her. He wanted to be able to give her more, but he couldn't. Not with the salary he made. Twelve francs a week wasn't that much, but it was enough to live on. 

Lily huffed a sigh and clicked her tongue. She wasn't sure as to what she should say, so she remained silent. Anya sneezed, startling both Lily and the Dowager. Her face flushed red. 

"I'm so sorry," she uttered. Lily handed her a handkerchief, as she always seemed to have a spare. "Thank you." Lily nodded as she stood up. The Countess stoked the fire and hummed an old Russian folk song. Anya smiled at the older woman and shook her head. She wasn't as old as her grandmother, but she was somewhere near sixty. She knew that only because Dmitry had mentioned Lily was near Vlad's age, and Vlad was sixty. 

Lily sat down again, shifting until she was comfortable. The three women sat in a comfortable silence, Lily focused on a loose string on her dress while the Dowager sipped her tea. Anya had gone to find some scissors for Lily. 

"Nana, Lily, can I ask you for your opinion?" Anya inquired.

"On what?" the Dowager pressed. 

"A crazy thought I had," Anya replied swiftly. 

"I'm all for it!" Lily exclaimed. "Let's hear it." 

"I want to cut my hair," Anya said. "I want to cut it clear up to here." She put her hand on the back of her head. The farthest she'd be able to cut it. 

"What for?" the Dowager questioned. 

"Just to do something crazy," Anya shrugged. "I don't know, really. I just want to cut it." 

"Do it," Lily shrugged. "It's your hair." Anya nodded. 

"I'll do it, then. Do you think Dmitry would like it, though?"

"Personally, yes. He might be shocked at first, but I think he'll like it," Lily chimed. Anya again nodded. She wrung her wrists nervously and took a deep breath. 

"Lily, do me a favor, would you?" Anya requested.

"Hm?" Lily hummed. 

"Cut my hair." 


	8. A New Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya changes her look completely. Dmitry's reaction included in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any mistakes in this. It was all written on mobile.

"What?! Here?  _Now?_ " Lily sputtered. 

"Yes," Anya confirmed. "Right here. Right now." 

Lily took the scissors from Anya’s hands. She then grabbed a stool and put it in front of her chair. 

“Sit down, Anya,” Lily sighed. Anya sat down on the stool and giggled. She was actually doing something crazy (that wasn’t illegal). “Now, sit still. I don’t want to mess this up.” 

Anya stayed still, giggling as Lily started to cut her hair. 

* * *

 

“Anya, do you have your hair pinned?” Dmitry’s brows furrowed when he noticed how short Anya’s hair seemed to be.

“No, why?” Anya muttered, glancing up at him from her book.

“You’ve got to have it pinned. Look at how short it is,” Dmitry spoke, still completely bewildered.

“No, it’s not pinned, Dima,” Anya laughed, standing up. “Swear you won’t kill me?”

“For what? What did you do?” Dmitry blurted.

“I cut it.” She turned around, allowing him to see the back of it. “Do you like it?”

Dmitry was silent. Anya turned around, snapping her book shut. She set it on the bedside table, watching him as he stepped closer to her. Dmitry didn’t seem to believe it.

“Y-your hair! What did you do to your hair?!” Dmitry exclaimed. “Oh my God, Anya...” 

Anya winced at his exclaimation. She thought he would like it. Quietly, she asked, “You don’t like it?” 

Dmitry towered above her. He lifted his hand and ran it through her short hair. 

“It’ll take some getting used to, but I think it suits you,” he smiled. “All that matters is if  _you_ like it, Anya.” 

“You’re too sweet,” Anya chuckled. She hadn’t realized she had teared up until he pointed it out. “O-oh.” She swiftly wiped her eyes. 

Dmitry lifted her chin and smiled at her. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. They pulled away seconds later. 

“I’m going to go change, alright? I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Anya nodded and climbed into bed. She adjusted her pillows behind her before laying down. Dmitry returned a moment later and turned the lights off. He got in bed and turned his head toward her. 

Anya scooted over and put her head on his chest, sighing happily. Dmitry went to play with her hair before remembering she had cut it. It was definitely going to take a while to get used to it. 

“Why’d you cut your hair?” Dmitry inquired. 

“I wanted to,” Anya muttered. “I wanted to do something crazy.” 

Dmitry chuckled and traced circles between her shoulder blades. He turned over and buried his nose in her hair. He loved her, that much was clear. He would never leave her. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did that. 

Anya buried her face in his chest, becoming drowsy. Dmitry started to hum, which made Anya drowsier. Anya fell asleep within five minutes, her chest rising and falling evenly. 

Dmitry had the unsettling feeling that something was wrong. What it was, he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Maybe it was his paranoia. He had been paranoid that evening. After the encounter with the Dowager, he had thought of every little thing that could go wrong. Perhaps it was just his nerves causing him to think that something was wrong. 

Either way, Dmitry was going to stay awake anyway. He wasn’t tired. He had fallen asleep while he was reading earlier that day, which resulted in a sleepless night, it seemed. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. 

 _It’s alright,_ he told himself. _You’re just paranoid._

And with that, Dmitry drifted off into a restless slumber. 

* * *

 

When Dmitry awoke, the first thing he realized was that Anya wasn’t beside him. The next thing he realized was that the sun wasn’t streaming through the window like it usually did. 

“Oh no! Come back, no, don’t go in there! Oh, Dima’s gonna kill me,” he heard Anya say. His brows furrowed as he pushed the covers off, standing and padding out of the room. Dmitry blinked in surprise when he saw a little girl - maybe a little boy? - standing near the doorway of the kitchen. 

“What… Anya, Anya, where are you?” 

“In here,” Anya called out from the washroom. “Oh! And bring Angelique with you, please.” 

“Angelique?” He raised a brow as he looked at the child again. She slowly nodded. “Well, come on.” He took her hand and led her to the washroom. 

“I swear I can explain why there’s a child in our house.” 

“Well, go on,” Dmitry chuckled. 

“I found her on the veranda this morning. It’s a terrible storm out there and I couldn’t leave her in it. So, she’s stuck with us for a while. Just until the storm passes,” Anya explained quickly. 

“How old is she?” 

“Five, maybe? Possibly six, I don’t know. She won’t say much,” Anya sighed. Dmitry looked down at the child. She let go of his hand and moved away from him. 

“Anya, I’ll be back in a few moments,” Dmitry mumbled. 

“Where are you going? It’s raining!” Anya exclaimed. 

“I know it’s raining. I have a coat, Anya. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. Anya sighed and nodded. 

* * *

 

Dmitry closed the bedroom door behind him, walking to the parlor, where Anya sat by the fireplace. 

“Is she sleeping?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, stoking the fire before sitting down. “You would think the girl hadn’t seen a bed before.” 

“Who’s to say she has?” Anya muttered. Dmitry nodded. She had a point. 

“Alright, that’s a fair point,” he mumbled. Anya let out a victorious laugh. Dmitry rolled his eyes playfully, leaning back in his armchair. (The same armchair Lily had sat in the night before and cut Anya’s hair.) 

Anya yelped when she poked herself with the needle she was threading. Dmitry stood and bent down in front of her, taking her hand and turning it over. He took the handkerchief out of his pocket and put it over her finger. There was a small red stain on it now, but he didn’t mind. 

Anya smiled sweetly at him, “Thank you, Dima.” 

“Anytime, princess,” Dmitry smiled before standing up. Anya glanced up at him before focusing on Angelique’s torn dress. 

“You used what little money you had to buy her that nightgown, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. 

“It’s not a ‘maybe’. I know you did,” Anya spoke quietly. Dmitry sighed. 

“So I did something nice,” Dmitry grumbled. “Kick me.” 

“I’d rather put cosmetics on you,” Anya grinned. 

“That’s out of the question,” Dmitry spoke quickly. 

“Whatever,” Anya shrugged, sewing the tear in the little girl’s dress. “Angelique… did she talk to you?” 

“Not really. She was nervous. I swear, Anya, when I picked her up, I thought she was going to scream. She looked so frightened.” 

Anya clicked her tongue and looked up at Dmitry. Quietly, she uttered, “I’ve got a crazy idea.” 


	9. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya comes back home after visiting her grandmother and finds Dmitry having a panic attack. Angelique asks Dmitry a question. ~takes place two months after the previous chapter~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes. I’ve been writing on mobile for some reason.

“Dmitry? Dmitry, where are you?” Anya called out, closing the door behind her. Angelique had requested to stay with Lily. “ _Dmitry!_ _”_

Anya walked to the bedroom, finding Dmitry on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. He was struggling to breathe. Anya hurried over to him, throwing her bag on the bed as she walked by it. She knelt in front of him, putting her hands on his face. 

Dmitry’s eyes were filled with panic. He lifted his shaky hands, trying to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Shh… shh, it’s alright. Talk to me, calm down. Here, let me help - no, stop it. Let me help you. Stop, Dmitry. Let me do it.” Anya reached out and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. “There. Now talk to me. You’ve got to calm down.” 

“I-I-I can’t,” he choked out. Anya spoke in a calm tone, speaking as softly as she could while trying to calm him down. She knew what it was like to have an attack like that. They hit you all at once, especially when you wake up from a nightmare. Or at least, that’s what happened with her. 

She shook her head, focusing her attention on Dmitry. She couldn’t let herself get lost in thought. Dmitry let out a wail. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. All he could do was cry. 

“A-Anya,” Dmitry forced the word out. “I… can’t… breathe…” 

“Listen to me, listen, alright? I need you to take deep breaths with me. Like this.” 

Anya took a deep breath. She held it until Dmitry took a deep breath as well, though his was shaky. She exhaled deeply. He copied her actions. The two sat there like that for a few moments, Dmitry breathing in sync with Anya. 

He wasn’t sure what had brought on the attack. Sometimes, he had come to realize when he was fifteen, they happened when he was stressed. Other times it would be because of something he saw or something he dreamt of. This time, he was nearly certain it was from paranoia. 

Anya wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek and forehead. She kissed the tip of his nose, then his other cheek. 

“Dima, are you feeling better?” Anya questioned. Dmitry nodded. Anya smiled before placing her lips on his. Dmitry wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, kissing her. 

Anya pulled away seconds later, giggling. Dmitry buried his face in the crook of her neck, closing his eyes and trying to relax. He quietly (and tiredly) chuckled, “Who would’ve thought anxiety could make you tired?”  

Anya chuckled, stroking Dmitry’s short hair. He hummed sleepily. Dmitry pulled out of the embrace and blinked a few times, trying to force himself to stay awake. 

Anya stood up and smiled at him, her lips pressed together. Dmitry stood up as well, shuffling over to the dresser. He grabbed his pajamas and went to the washroom. Anya hurriedly changed while Dmitry was in the washroom. She was smoothing the fabric of her nightgown when he entered the room again. 

“I’m so tired,” Dmitry yawned. “I think I’ll sleep for a day. Maybe two, if Nikolay will let me.” Anya laughed before slipping under the covers. Dmitry followed suit after turning the light off. 

He turned over to where he faced Anya. Anya had her back toward him, which didn’t bother him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

”I love you too,” Anya murmured softly. Dmitry smiled slightly before falling into a deep slumber. 

* * *

 

Anya moaned as she awoke, blinking a few times to allow her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room. She turned over, running her fingers through Dmitry’s hair. Dmitry groaned, a pout forming on his lips. Anya giggled quietly. 

 “Anya, what are you doing?” Dmitry mumbled groggily, refusing to open his eyes. 

“Your hair was in your eyes,” Anya whispered. He slightly nodded and pulled her closer. Anya squeaked in surprise. Dmitry sleepily giggled. “Why don’t you go back to sleep?” He nodded slightly. 

Anya kissed his forehead and smiled. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, that attack he had the previous day had done him some good. He was sleeping peacefully again. 

Dmitry slept for another hour. When he woke up, Anya was picking at her fingernails. He kissed her forehead and smiled sleepily. His eyes had yet to adjust to the brightness of the room. 

“I love you,” Dmitry mumbled. 

“I love you too,” Anya grinned. Dmitry ‘hmphed’ and sat up. He scratched the back of his head before getting up. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept that long,” Dmitry muttered. Anya smiled softly. She was happy he had gotten to rest. “I don’t know what happened, though. I was fine one minute and the next I couldn’t breathe. It’s odd, isn’t it? How things hit you all at once, I mean.” 

“It’s very odd,” Anya agreed. “I’ve had them before. They’re not fun, especially after you wake up from a nightmare.” 

Dmitry glanced at her through the mirror that hung on the wall. She had kicked the covers away from her and was tugging at the end of her nightgown. 

“You never told me about that.” 

“They haven’t happened in a long while. I didn’t really think about it, honestly, and I-“ 

Dmitry cut her off with a kiss. She hadn’t even noticed he had moved from the dresser. 

“You were rambling,” he murmured after pulling away. Anya nervously chuckled. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Dmitry chuckled, pecking her lips. “It’s cute.” 

Anya’s cheeks flushed pink. Dmitry wrapped his arms around her shoulders, quietly giggling. Anya playfully rolled her eyes and gently whacked the back of his head. 

Anya buried her face in his shoulder, closing her eyes. She breathed in deeply, smiling. 

“Your shirt smells good,” she mumbled. Dmitry laughed. 

“Why thank you. It’s your perfume, after all.” 

“Oh, you’re right! I forgot about that one,” Anya laughed. 

“I thought you did,” Dmitry muttered. 

Anya hummed. She opened her eyes when someone started to knock on the front door. Dmitry retracted his arms and left the room. She could hear him talking. The door clicked shut and he returned to the room with Angelique on his hip. 

Angelique squealed when Dmitry gently tossed her on the bed. She crawled up to where Anya was and grinned at her. 

“Mama, Mama, guess what?” Angelique bounced up and down on her knees. 

“What?” Anya giggled. 

“I don’t really know,” Angelique grinned innocently. “Aunt Lily said something about you’re a princess or something.” 

 Dmitry chuckled from where he was standing, his arms propped up on the mattress, supporting his weight. Angelique looked over at him with a pout on her face. He stuck his tongue out at her. 

“Dmitry,” Anya chided. Angelique laughed. Dmitry blinked, looking at Anya innocently. “Childish.” Anya playfully rolled her eyes. 

Dmitry smiled innocently, “I was just trying to make her laugh.” 

“Why, of course,” Anya shrugged. Angelique sneezed and blinked. “Oh dear. You’re not getting ill, are you?” Angelique shook her head. “Alright. If you get ill, I’ll give your Papa permission to tickle you mercilessly.” 

“No,” Angelique groaned. “That’s not fair!” 

“I never said it was,” Anya giggled. “I’m only teasing you.” 

Dmitry huffed, his brows furrowed. He stood upright and stepped closer to Angelique, fixing the bow in her hair. He didn’t know anything about parenting, but he figured it wasn’t _too_ hard. Besides that, he and Anya had let Angelique choose if she wanted to stay there or not. 

Dmitry was glad she had decided to stay. He loved the little girl with all of his heart. 

Angelique stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. Anya was digging through one of her drawers. Dmitry raised a brow. Angelique smiled sweetly. Dmitry bent down and kissed her cheek. 

Angelique wrapped her arms around Dmitry’s neck. She put her head on his shoulder and allowed him to pick her up. She wrapped her legs around his torso, then giggled in his ear. 

“I love you, Papa.” 

“I love you too, Angel. Come on, you can help me in the kitchen,” Dmitry whispered. He pecked her cheek before striding out of the room. He huffed and let out a ‘hmph’ as he set her on the counter. 

“Mama said you’re just being silly when you do that,” Angelique laughed. 

“Well, she’s right. Now, my little princess, what shall we make today?” 

Angelique shrugged. Dmitry sighed. He tapped his fingers on the countertop, then smiled. 

“I’ve got an idea. What if we made something simple? Like stew.” Angelique nodded. “Good. C’mon, we’ve gotta get started if we’re going to get it done.” 

“Papa?” 

“Yes, dear?” Dmitry asked as he grabbed a fair sized pot. 

“Why doesn’t Nana like you?” 

“Why would you ask something like that?” Dmitry avoided the question. Yes, he knew the Dowager didn’t like him. He didn’t think that Angelique would see it, though. 

“Cause I can tell she don’t like you,” Angelique responded. 

“Your grandmother and I don’t get along very well, Angelique. Nothing against your grandmother. Well, great-grandmother. We just don’t get along, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Do you guys like this story? I don’t want to write something you don’t like. Please let me know!


	10. The Dowager and Dmitry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dowager and Dmitry are left alone in a room. The Dowager gives some advice. ~Lots of dialogue~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zvezda means star in Russian. I thought it was rather fitting for a cat. This one was also written on mobile so please forgive any mistakes.

Dmitry nearly shouted in protest when Anya, Angelique, and Lily all decided to go shopping. In his opinion, being left at the Dowager’s estate _with_ the Dowager wasn’t the best thing. Not to mention they happened to be in the same room. Dmitry was reading a book, the Dowager was sitting at her desk, reading over letters and such. 

Dmitry glanced up once to see what time it was. He scowled when the Dowager’s cat jumped up in his lap, promptly curling up on his book. 

“Curse you, Zvezda,” he mumbled. Zvezda purred and rolled onto her back, revealing the white fur on her stomach and chest. Dmitry rolled his eyes and scratched the cat’s chest. “I was trying to read, you pesky feline.” 

“My feline is not pesky.” 

Dmitry flinched. He had forgotten the Dowager was in the room. Dmitry tried to think of something to say that would make it better. He couldn’t think of anything. 

“You know, Dmitry, I don’t like you. I don’t like that you married my granddaughter either. If our family was still ruling Russia, she wouldn’t be your wife. She’d be married to a Duke or a Count or Prince. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“I’ve got the idea, yes,” Dmitry grumbled. 

“Good. I’ll be honest with you. I only get along with you for Anastasia’s sake. A con man marrying a princess. The thought is absolutely preposterous,” the Dowager raved. 

“I agree, Your Majesty. I don’t understand it either.” Dmitry stroked Zvezda’s fur. 

“She loves you. She’d do anything for you,” the old woman sighed exasperatedly. 

“I don’t know why she loves me! Believe me, I was an idiot from the time we met till the time I stepped on your dress,” Dmitry’s voice had started to rise in volume. He sighed and leaned back. “I was stupid.” 

“You got that part right,” the Dowager huffed. 

“What do you know about me, Your Majesty? Not much, I assume.” 

“You’re right, young man. Delight me. Tell me your story.” 

“I was six when my mother died. I watched her as she died, delirious with a fever. God, she was so ill. I couldn’t do anything to help her… I was a stupid little boy.” He focused his eyes on the floor before continuing.

“When I was ten, I was sitting in a tree. I watched the Bolsheviks drag my father inside this gated area, one that you couldn’t see through. And then they shot him. They shot him and turned around, looking up at me because he had looked at me before they pulled the trigger. They reloaded and started shooting at me. I guess their technique was to shoot anyone that wasn’t supposed to be there. I jumped down and ran. After that, I was on my own. I managed to be out and about on one particular day… a hot day in June. There was a parade that I watched. That was my first encohnter with Any–Anastasia.” 

Dmitry stayed silent for a few moments. The Dowager urged him to go on. 

“I bowed to her. I never bowed to anyone, and I’d always heard it was the right thing to do when encountering a royal. Skip a few years and we’re in 1917. I’d made quite the name for myself. Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov was only a soldier then. Oh, how he hated me. I kept slipping out of his grasp. I didn’t care. I enjoyed making his life miserable. Well, I did until I got caught, anyway.” 

Dmitry rubbed Zvezda’s head, trying to focus on something other than the fact he was telling his life story to the Dowager Empress. 

“Vaganov had finally outsmarted me. It took him a few years, but he did it. I didn’t stand a chance against five Bolshevik officers. So, I spent a few nights in a damp cell. It was better than the streets, I have to admit. In the middle of winter, anything is better than the streets. Then I was released. They couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong.” He laughed at that. “So I went out. There was a firing squad near the alleyway I lived in. I took one look at the man they were going to shoot and I ran and knocked him out of the way.” 

“Whatever for?” the Dowager queried. 

“I honestly don’t know,” Dmitry sighed. “I knew he was a Count. I’d seen him plenty of times before. A Count Vladimir Popov. The White Russians didn’t deserve to die because the Reds hated them. There had been enough death. So, I ran in front of a firing squad to knock him out of the way. In 1920, we started to live in the old Yusupov Palace. The Bolsheviks had torn the place to pieces. We lived there until 1927, when Anya came along. At first it was just a con. As time went on, I realized she was remembering things we hadn’t taught her.” 

The Dowager shifted in her seat, tapping her fingers on the desk. Dmitry sighed, knowing the old woman would glare at him if he looked up. 

“When we got to Paris, she had convinced herself she really was the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov. I had started to believe it myself. The night before the ballet… she had this nightmare. I was awake and heard her crying, so I went to her room. She looked so… fragile. She was scared out of her wits. To calm her down, I told her about the time I had seen that parade. And she remembered. God, I was thrilled. Until I realized Vlad had been right all along. I had fallen in love with her.” 

Zvezda meowed and purred, rubbing her head against Dmitry’s cheek. Her claws dug into the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t mind, though. He liked the feline. 

“Vlad told me she was going to break my heart, and he was right. She did it without even knowing she did. Because princesses don’t marry con men. It’s just not right. The night she ran after me and found me on that bridge… Pont Alexandre, I think, I had every intention of leaving and never returning. I was trying to figure out where to go, where other Russians would be. I couldn’t go back to Russia, I would’ve been killed the second I stepped foot off that train.” 

The Dowager hummed and watched as Dmitry pet her feline. 

“I didn’t expect the Grand Duchess to show up. I still had my mind set on leaving when she told me she loved me. I didn’t want her to give up her life, the one she had just remembered and found. Oh, God, I never intended on her giving up her title and marrying a con man that lied to her. From the time we met in Petersburg til the time she had that nightmare, I lied to her. I deserve every harsh word she said at the ballet. I deserve a firm slap to the face. I deserve every ounce of hate I receive.” 

“Tell me, Dmitry, what happened before you kindly stepped on my dress?” the Dowager implored. 

“Um… she told me what happened. She yelled at me. She slapped me and stormed out. I never thought it would fail… especially with her being the _real_ Anastasia. I don’t even know why she fell in love with me. I didn’t mean to be the reason she gave up her title.” 

The Dowager sighed, standing and walking over to the sofa. She sat down beside him, placing one of her hands on his shoulder. 

“You couldn’t have stopped her if you tried,” the Dowager spoke softly. “She’s happy being your wife. Isn’t that enough for you?” 

“That’s plenty for me, I swear it. I just can’t understand why she’d want to be my wife. I mean… you figured out my intentions before she did. I lied to her for months, Your Majesty. For months I gave her false hope. It’s so wrong,” Dmitry closed his eyes and shook his head. 

Zvezda had made herself comfortable on his stomach. She was curled into a ball, sleeping. Dmitry was still stroking the feline’s light colored fur. 

The Dowager clicked her tongue and glanced at the clock. She patted the young man’s shoulder before standing up, going over to her desk. 

“You seem uneasy,” she remarked. “I might not like you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see my granddaughter loves you with all of her heart. She wants to be married to you. She loves being married to you. Don’t think about your statuses. Just be happy.” 

Dmitry nodded. He looked down at the feline that was curled up on his stomach and sighed. The room was silent for a long while.  

“Nana? Dmitry?” Anya’s voice pierced the silence. She rounded the corner, her eyes widening when she saw the two were in the same room. “Oh no,” she whispered under her breath. 

Dmitry lifted his gaze and smiled at Anya. Angelique ran into the room, sitting down beside Dmitry. She leaned against him and started to pet Zvezda. Angelique looked up at Dmitry and grinned. 

“What happened?” Anya inquired. 

“We just had a conversation, dear. Stop fretting so much,” the Dowager smiled at her. 

Anya huffed a sigh of relief and lifted Angelique, sitting down then sitting on her little girl on her lap. Anya scratched Zvezda’s head. 

“Next time,” Anya yawned, “you can roam the Parisian streets with Angelique.” 


	11. Alexei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Dmitry have a new addition to their small family. Angelique has a nightmare. ~Takes place a year after the previous chapter~

A wail pierced the silence. Dmitry groaned and got up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Every night you do this," he sighed, bending down and picking the infant up. Dmitry cradled the infant against his chest, walking over to the bed. He sat down and rocked the child back and forth, yawning. 

He caressed the baby's cheek. 

"My little Alexei," he murmured. Dmitry held his son against him, smiling down at him. Dmitry thought Alexei had fallen asleep. So, he stood up and put him back in the crib. Dmitry had turned to get back in bed when Alexei wailed. 

"Is he alright?" Anya mumbled groggily, pushing herself to a sitting position. 

"I can't get him to go to sleep," Dmitry muttered, picking him up again. 

"Bring him to me," Anya yawned. Dmitry padded over to the bed, sitting down beside Anya. "Get some sleep, Dmitry. You've got to work tomorrow." 

"He's just crying, Anya. I can take care of him," Dmitry murmured. Anya sleepily laughed. 

"Get some sleep, you big oaf," she gently whacked his head. 

Dmitry huffed but he laid down, deciding not to argue with Anya. He tucked his right arm beneath his pillow, closing his eyes. Anya giggled at his behavior. 

Anya held Alexei against her chest. She sighed, placing her lips on his forehead. She adjusted him to where he laid his head on her shoulder, softly crying in her ear. 

Anya rubbed Alexei’s back, humming. She stood up and swayed from side to side. Anya had managed to lull Alexei to sleep within five minutes. She gently put him back down in the crib, then crept back over to the bed. 

She slipped under the covers and turned to where she faced Dmitry. Dmitry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Anya quietly giggled. 

She had drifted off when the door to the bedroom opened. 

"Mama, Papa, I'm scared," Angelique whispered. 

"Come here," Dmitry muttered, sitting up. Angelique climbed upon the bed and crawled over to him. "What's the matter?" He wiped the tears off of her cheeks. Angelique didn't say anything, but instead started to cry, wrapping her arms around Dmitry. 

Dmitry wrapped his arms around her and tried to hush her, to calm her down. He had a pretty good idea of what was wrong. 

"Shh... shh, Angel, shh," Dmitry stroked Angelique's long red hair. Angelique clung to him tightly, crying.  "It's alright, Angelique. Shh..." 

Angelique had buried her face in Dmitry's undershirt, crying and sobbing. Dmitry moved her arms to where they were wrapped around his neck before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, lifting Angelique - who had buried her face in the crook of his neck - while he did so. He walked over to the lamp and turned it on. 

"Tell me what's wrong," he whispered, smoothing her hair back. Angelique did nothing but cry, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Dmitry sat down, his back against the wall, trying to coax Angelique to at least look at him. She sniffed and leaned back, looking up at Dmitry. 

Dmitry wiped her tears again, murmuring soft, comforting phrases to her. Angelique sniffled and put her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Dmitry ran his fingers through her hair, holding her close. She softly whimpered, causing Dmitry's curiosity to grow. 

"I had a bad dream," she whispered after a few moments. 

"Oh?" Dmitry mumbled, shifting slightly. "What about?" 

"I dunno. There was this man... a tall man. Mama was on the ground and I couldn't see her face." Angelique swallowed before continuing. "A-Alexei was in his arms. He wasn't breathing. An-and-and you were in the corner... you looked scared. I dunno, Papa, I dunno!" 

Dmitry held her close to him, hushing her softly. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. 

"How about you sleep in here tonight, hm?" Dmitry quietly questioned, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. Angelique nodded. "Alright. Here, stand up a second." Angelique stood up, which allowed Dmitry to stand up as well. He turned off the lamp and picked her up again. He set her down on the bed before climbing under the covers himself. He turned over and smiled at Angelique. 

Angelique curled up against him. Dmitry kissed her forehead, whispering, "Good night, Angel." 

* * *

 

"Papa?" 

Dmitry blinked a few times. When his vision cleared, he saw Angelique in front of him. 

"Hm?" he hummed. 

"There's someone at the door," Angelique muttered.  

"Where's your mother?" Dmitry's brows furrowed as he sat up. 

"She went out with Aunt Lily. Something about Vladdy slipped and fell or something," Angelique shrugged. "She locked the door before she left and I can't reach it to see--" 

"You never answer that door," Dmitry told her, kicking the covers off and hurrying over to the dresser. "It's dangerous for you to open that door." 

He grabbed a shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it swiftly as he hurried to the door. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. He raised a brow when he saw a man that looked vaguely familiar. 

"I was sent to tell you your wife will be returning sometime this evening. Count Popov slipped and managed to break his ankle." 

Dmitry sighed, "Thank you." The man nodded and left. Dmitry closed the door and locked it. "Angelique!" 

"Yes, Papa?" She bounded up to him. 

"Wanna bake a cake?" She nodded excitedly. "I thought you would. Give me five minutes and then we'll get started, alright?" 

"Alright," Angelique smiled. 

* * *

 

"That's not fair!" Angelique exclaimed, throwing some flour at Dmitry. Dmitry laughed and sprinkled some flour in her hair. 

"Dmitry? Angelique?" Anya's voice called out. 

"Mama!" Angelique shouted, dashing out of the kitchen. 

"Oh no!" Anya exclaimed, laughing after Angelique hugged her. "I chose a bad day to wear black." She could hear Dmitry laughing in the kitchen. Angelique smiled up at her. 

"Anya, come here!" 

"What for?" Anya demanded. 

"Just do it," Dmitry laughed. Anya grabbed Angelique's hand with her free hand, the two of them walking to the kitchen together. "Try this. I don't think I've got it sweet enough." 

Anya took the spoon from him, her brows furrowed. 

"Why are you making icing anyway?" Anya inquired before eating it. 

"We're baking a cake. Might as well make it pretty." 

Anya nodded and tossed the spoon in the sink before saying it was good. Dmitry thanked her and watched her retreating figure, Alexei's blanket tossed over her shoulder. Angelique stood beside him and grinned. He raised a brow before averting his gaze and setting the bowl filled with frosting farther back, making it impossible to knock it off of the counter. 

Angelique looked up at him and giggled. Dmitry chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to get the cake out of the oven. He grabbed a towel to keep his hand from getting burnt and bent down, pulling the cake out of the oven. He set it on the counter and huffed a sigh. Dmitry bent down to Angelique's level, only to have her put her hand above his hair and open it, flour dropping into his chestnut hair. 

He laughed and shook his head, causing a cloud of flour to fly from his hair. Angelique laughed as well. 

"Come on," he chuckled. "Maybe we should change before your Mama kills us." 


	12. Kidnapped / Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelique opens the door while Dmitry is tending to Alexei. Angelique gets kidnapped. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on mobile. Please forgive any mistakes.

“Papa! The door,” Angelique shouted. 

“I’ll get it in a moment, Angel. I’m busy,” Dmitry called out. 

Angelique huffed and walked over to the door, twisting the knob. Lily was supposed to come over at some point during the day, and Angelique didn’t want to wait to see if it was her. She pulled the door open and gulped when she lifted her head to look at the man. 

He smiled at Angelique menacingly before pulling her outside, closing the door behind her. His hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. He picked her up and farted away from the house. 

* * *

 

“Angelique? Angelique, where are you?!” 

Dmitry felt panic rising in his throat. He threw the door open to her bedroom. Empty. The door to the washroom was standing wide open, so he knew she wasn’t in there. He’d already checked the kitchen and parlor. He threw the door open and hurried out of the house, standing on the veranda and looking around. 

He couldn’t find her. 

“Angelique… oh God, Angelique, where are you?” 

* * *

 

Dmitry was a nervous mess when Anya got home. He had Alexei cradled in his arms and nearly refused to let him go when Anya took the child from him. 

“Where’s Angelique?” Anya inquired, her brows furrowed. Dmitry broke down, his shoulders shaking. 

“I don’t know! I-I was changing Alexei and she said someone was at the door and— and I told her I’d get it once I was finished. She wasn’t there. She’s not in her room or-or anywhere in  this house and… and… Oh God, Anya,” he cried. 

“Listen to me,” Anya spoke quietly and softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’ll find her. We’ll call the police, Dmitry. We’ve got to hurry.” 

* * *

 

Angelique whimpered as the rope was tightly tied around her wrists. 

“Calm down, little one. You shouldn’t be here much longer,” the man patted her head, much like her father did. She moved her head away. She glared at him. “Now, now, that’s not nice.” 

Angelique huffed and turned (or tried to turn) away from him, only to have him grab her shoulder tightly, turning her around again. Angelique let out a cry when he slapped her. She backed up until her back hit the wall, then slid down to the floor. 

“Stay there, you Romanov brat,” the man snarled.

Angelique whimpered after the man closed the door behind him, leaving her alone. She heard the door lock. She couldn’t figure out why she had been called a Romanov brat. She was a Sudayev. It didn’t make any sense to her. 

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she whispered to herself. “I didn’t listen.” 

Angelique figured her father would more than likely be angry with her once he found her. No, _if_ he found her. Angelique glanced around the room. She couldn’t wipe her tears away because her hands were tied behind her back. Angelique wanted to get out of the situation she was in. She was frightened. 

Angelique shifted on the floor.

_Please hurry, Papa._

* * *

 

“Thank you so much, Nana. I swear I’ll make it up to you—“ 

“Think nothing of it. Now go,” the Dowager ushered her out of the small chateau. 

Dmitry grabbed Anya’s hand. Worry and guilt bubbled up inside him. If only he had answered the door or had her by his side at the time, none of it would have happened. Angelique would be curled up against him in the parlor while he read to her.

“Dima,” Anya snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I… I don’t know. What is it?”

“Which way do we go?”

* * *

Angelique screamed when the door crashed against the wall. It had startled her out of her restless sleep. Angelique didn’t even know she had fallen asleep. She supposed she cried too much. 

“Shut up,” the man hissed. Angelique immediately snapped her mouth shut. She didn’t like this man, whoever he was. He hadn’t even told her what his name was. She thought that was rude. He seemed to know everything about her, and yet she knew nothing about him, except that he was a very mean man. 

“I want to go home,” she spoke quietly. The man guffawed.

”Well, now that all depends on Anastasia’s cooperation. You sit back there and make yourself comfortable. From the looks of it, you’re going to be stuck here for a while.” 

* * *

 

“Dmitry, I’m worried,” Anya muttered as she followed Dmitry through an alleyway. 

“I am too,” he murmured in admittance. “He said he’d meet us on the other side of this alley. We’ll be through it in a moment. Oh, watch your step.” 

They had been following the police, as they had agreed to let Dmitry and Anya come with them. It was understandable. They were worried about their daughter. Whether she was blood or not didn’t matter. They loved her all the same. 

Dmitry forced a smile (which looked more like a grimace of pain) when he looked down at Anya. Anya squeezed his hand, trying to hide the fact she was crying. The night was approaching quickly. Too quickly, in her opinion. 

“Come this way! I think I’ve found something!” 

Dmitry and Anya headed toward the officer, their brows furrowing when they saw the building. It was certainly creepy. It was a tall, abandoned building. Dmitry could tell just by looking at it that the top floors were inaccessible. That left the first floor and the basement, if there was one. 

Anya gulped. She’d never seen a place that looked so unsettling on the outside, even if it _was_ abandoned. As planned, they followed the police officer inside, sticking close together in case the entire thing was a trap. 

There was a scream that struck fear into Dmitry’s heart. 

“Angelique,” he breathed. 

* * *

 

Angelique was beyond frightened. She was terrified of the man who was coming closer to her. The man who roughly grabbed her leg and pulled her back into the corner she had been sitting in. Angelique started to kick him, trying to get free. If she could get him knocked down on his back, she could run and be free. 

“Hold still, you miserable brat!” 

Angelique continued to squirm, making it hard for him to tie her ankles together. She eventually managed to get her foot loose and jumped up, stepping away from him. 

“Leave me alone,” she whimpered. Her voice was strained. “I want to go home!” 

“You’ll go home soon enough! Let them come and find you, you _Romanov_ brat!” 

Angelique glanced at the open door. If she ran fast enough, she could easily get out of there. The man looked to be in his mid-forties and was rather plump. She slowly turned, trying to decide if it was worth a shot. There was still the chance he would catch her. 

Angelique cowered in the corner once she realized the man was towering over her. She anxiously pulled and tugged at the rope, but to her disappointment, it wouldn’t come loose.

There was a loud crash down the hallway. A few exclaimations of, “Are you alright?” pierced the tense silence in the room.

“Stay there and stay quiet,” the man hissed. 

* * *

 

Anya disentangled her foot from the bucket that didn’t seem to want to let go. Dmitry ended up bending down and helping her. He then pulled her to her feet. 

“Sorry,” she murmured once she had composed herself. The officers with them waved it off, knowing that things like that happened when you couldn’t see a thing. 

“Say, here’s a light switch!” the youngest of the officers exclaimed, flipping the switch. The lights in the hallway flickered on. 

Anya clung to Dmitry’s side. The place was creepier with the lights on. Dmitry squinted as he looked down the hallway, seeing a single door that was open. A man stepped out of that room and locked the door behind him. 

“Hello. My name is Ivan. How may I help—“  

An ear piercing scream interrupted him. Dmktry and Anya looked at one another. 

 _Angelique._  

“—you?” Ivan clearly forced a smile. 

“We need to see the girl. There’s a child reported missing and we’ve been told to check every abandoned building.” 

Ivan nodded slightly. 

“Ah, yes, but first, might I suggest the rooms that are already closed? I mean, _my daughter_ is alright.” 

Anya and Dmitry glared at him. They knew very well that she wasn’t his daughter. 

“That’s not his daughter,” Dmitry grumbled under his breath. The policeman near Dmitry heard him and raised his brows. 

“Then you certainly wouldn’t mind us looking around your daughter’s… room.” 

Ivan seemed to pale. The policemen moved past him and opened the door (which they had to do with force). One of them sighed when he saw the girl cowered in the corner, hands tied behind her back. 

He moved closer to her, kneeling beside her and untying the rope around her wrists. The others had restrained Ivan. 

“Are you alright?” 

Angelique stayed in the corner, refusing to say a word. It was when Anya and Dmitry appeared in the doorway she scrambled to her feet and ran over to them. Dmitry picked her up and hugged her tightly. 

“Oh, God, Angelique,” he whispered.

”I’m sorry Papa,” Angelique sniffed. “I-I stood on my tiptoes and opened the door and—“ 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. I’m not angry.” Dmitry smiled at her. “Let’s go home… if that’s alright with you, Sir.” 

The policeman nodded. Dmitry and Anya turned and walked out of the building. 

“Papa,” Angelique spoke quietly. 

“Hm?” he hummed, glancing at her. 

“I’m really sorry,” she mumbled, putting her head against his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Angel. You thought it was Lily, didn’t you?” Angelique slowly nodded. “I thought so.” 

“Papa,” she sniffed, “I’m sleepy.” 

“You can go to sleep,” Dmitry murmured. He kissed her cheek. Dmitry rubbed her back while he walked alongside Anya, who was holding onto his arm. 

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Anya whispered. 

“I dunno, Anya,” Dmitry sighed. “I just don’t know.” 


	13. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It can be described in one word: Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to update!

Angelique climbed upon her parents’ bed, crawling in between them. Anya stirred and turned onto her side while Angelique slipped under the covers. 

Dmitry felt the cool air on his skin. He opened one eye, just to see if Anya was trying to pull the blankets to her side. He instead saw Angelique, who had settled in and turned over. She curled up against Dmitry. 

It had become a routine over the past week. She’d come into their room and sleep with them after trying to sleep in her room. She would usually curl up against Dmitry, but every now and then, she'd curl up against Anya. 

Angelique looked up at Dmitry, biting her lower lip. Dmitry sighed and turned over, wrapping his arms around her. Angelique whimpered, pressing her forehead against his neck. Dmitry ran his fingers through her hair, quietly murmuring comforting phrases to her. 

"What's the matter, Angel?" he queried after a while. 

"I'm scared," she whispered. Dmitry held her close to him. 

"I know you are," Dmitry murmured. "It's alright now, though. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you, Angelique. I promise." 

* * *

 

Dmitry groaned. Anya was poking at his jaw again, snickering. Angelique was giggling. Dmitry opened his eyes and sighed.  

“Must you act so childish?” Dmitry murmured, burying his face in his pillow. 

“Mhm,” Anya hummed. Dmitry huffed and turned over to where his back faced them. “Aw, Dima, that’s no fun.” 

“I’m going back to sleep.” 

Anya looked at Angelique and giggled. She shook his shoulder gently. 

“Lay on your stomach.” 

“What for?” Dmitry groaned. 

“Just do it,” she whispered in his ear. Dmitry sighed and turned over, turning his head to the side. Anya sat on his lower back and started to rub his back. 

Dmitry hummed, his eyes closed. 

“Why are you so tense?” Anya mumbled, not really knowing if he was still awake or not. 

“I dunno,” Dmitry mumbled groggily. Anya giggled quietly. 

Anya worked at the tense muscles, trying to make them relax. Angelique laid beside Dmitry, jabbing his jaw. Dmitry opened a single eye. Angelique smiled innocently, though her finger was still on his jaw. 

Anya kept working at Dmitry’s tense muscles, slowly getting them to relax. She muttered a “you’re lucky I love you” while she worked at them. Dmitry had drifted off to sleep before she said it, though, so he didn’t hear it. 

Anya knew he was sleeping. She found it cute. Angelique snickered each time he snored. Anya giggled and shook her head. She continued to rub his back. 

 She loved the man with all of her heart, that she knew. She also knew that he loved her. Anya wasn’t sure as to how long she had been rubbing his back, but she didn’t care. His muscles were still tense. 

Sometime later, Dmitry woke up. She was made aware of it when he laughed. His head was propped up on his arms, as his arms had been stuffed beneath his pillow before. He hummed while she worked at the last few tense muscles. 

“Exactly how long have you been at this?” Dmitry asked. 

“I dunno,” Anya muttered. Angelique had curled up next to Dmitry and fell asleep moments before he woke up. After a few more moments, the muscles relaxed. Anya stumbles as she got up, the hem of her nightgown getting caught on the side of the bed. 

Dmitry jumped up and caught her before she hit the floor. Anya laughed quietly and hugged him tightly. 

“Thank you,” she muttered. 

“Think nothing of it,” he chuckled. Dmitry helped her stand upright. Anya rolled her eyes before pulling the hem of her nightgown free. 

* * *

 

Dmitry coughed as he backed out of the fireplace he had been cleaning. Angelique laughed at his appearance. He huffed and grabbed the bucket he intended to put the ashes in. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Anya inquired as she entered the room. 

“Cleaning the fireplace. What else?” Dmitry grinned before grabbing the small shovel. He scooped some of the ashes up in it and dumped them in the bucket. “Not like I’ve got anything else to do, Anya.” 

“That’s true,” Anya nodded. “Plus, when you do this, it’s entertainment for us.” 

“Oh, hush,” he laughed. “Before you ask, I did remember to take my ring off this time. It’s on the mantle.” 

* * *

 

Anya sniffed before pulling the front door open. She stepped out into the chilly night air, closing the door behind her. Her nightmares were progressively getting worse. She wouldn’t tell Dmitry about it, though. He had enough to worry about. 

Anya closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She jumped when the door clicked shut behind her. She whipped around, seeing Dmitry. 

“You know, you can talk to me about anything,” he murmured in her ear. Anya nodded. 

She turned around again. Anya turned her head toward Dmitry, tugging his arm. He stepped closer to her, his brows furrowed. Dmitry wrapped his arms around her waist, bending down and putting his head on her shoulder. 

“What’s wrong, Anya?” 

“It was just a nightmare,” she murmured. “I’ll be alright in a moment.” 

“Anya, you know I don’t contradict you, but you’re trembling. It must’ve been a bad one,” Dmitry mumbled. Anya nodded. He stood up straight. Anya turned around, wrapping her arms around him. "What happened?" 

She simply shook her head. Dmitry rubbed her back comfortingly. 

"Let's get you inside before you catch a cold out here." 

Dmitry picked her up and carried her inside, closing the front door behind them. He locked it after setting her down. Anya buried her face in the fabric of his shirt, forcing the tears back. 

He listened to her sniff while he tried to comfort her. He had started to rub her shoulders. Dmitry couldn't get her to calm down. After a moment, she burst into tears, staining his white shirt with the droplets that fell from her eyes. 

"Shh... shh, it's alright," he whispered, moving his hand to the back of her head. He held her close to him, letting her cry. "It's okay, Anya... shh, shh. Calm down a bit, alright? You're safe. It's okay." 

Anya tried to calm herself down, trying to push what she was feeling away. It only made her feel worse. 

"Anya, Anya, listen, stop trying to get rid of the feeling. You're only going to make it worse that way. Listen to me, Anya," he spoke softly. She nodded, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. "It's alright. You're alright, everything's just fi--" 

Alexei's cry cut him off. Anya pulled back and wiped her tears before hurrying to the bedroom. She sniffed before picking him up, his wide emerald eyes looking at her curiously. The one thing he seemed to have inherited from his mother was her eyes. The Romanov eyes. 

Anya sat down on the settee, rocking him back and forth. She held him close to her, caressing his cheek. Dmitry came into the room a moment later, setting a glass on her bedside table. He then moved and sat down beside her. 

Dmitry brushed her hair out of her face, watching her as she rocked their son back and forth, trying to lull him back to sleep. Dmitry glanced at the clock and sighed. 

Anya had calmed down a lot. She yawned and shook her head. 

"Why don't you get some sleep, darling? I'll get him to go to sleep. You need rest, Anya." She nodded and handed Alexei to him. Dmitry watched as she sipped the water that was in the glass before getting into bed. 

He rocked Alexei for a few moments before standing up. He stood against the wall, looking out the window. Alexei was more interested in his father than the world outside the glass. Dmitry looked down at him when he began to coo. Dmitry yawned and sighed before trying to get the infant to go to sleep again. 

* * *

 

"You look tired," Anya remarked as Dmitry walked into the parlor. He forced a smile before plopping down in his chair. "The baby's still asleep. How long did you stay up with him?" 

"I don't know," Dmitry sighed. "Maybe an hour or two?" 

Anya nodded as Angelique bounded up to Dmitry, climbing upon his lap. Anya was busy sewing, so she couldn't sit on her lap. Dmitry kissed Angelique's temple. 

"Are you tired, Papa?" Angelique giggled. Dmitry chuckled tiredly and nodded. Angelique looked up at him, her brows furrowed. "Why?" 

"I couldn't sleep," he muttered, tickling her side. 

Angelique giggled and looked over at Anya. Anya had laughed and shaken her head at them. Dmitry lifted his gaze, looking at his wife. 

"I love you. I love both of you very much," Dmitry muttered. 


	14. Epilogue

Dmitry huffed as he sat down on the sofa, groaning as he leaned his head back. He'd been fixing the roof, which had started to leak. All he had to do was replace a few of the boards on the roof. That proved to be a difficult task when the man helping him was an old man that had broken his ankle. 

Anya quietly snickered beside him when her grandmother strolled into the room. Dmitry didn't care to see why Anya was snickering and instead stayed in the position he was in. Anya continued to snicker. Alexei was cradled in her arms, cooing softly. 

Dmitry was dressed in his undershirt and trousers, his suspenders covering the straps of his shirt. Anya eventually burst into a hearty laugh, watching her grandmother shake her head. Dmitry yawned, turning to look at Anya. 

"Anya, I mean no offense, but why are you cackling like you're drunk?" 

Anya didn't respond but instead kept laughing. After a few seconds, she stopped and was trying to catch her breath. 

"I swear, Dima, you'll find it as funny as I do," she told him, taking his hand in hers. Dmitry was confused. "Look over there." Anya motioned to the armchair the Dowager was sitting in. Dmitry lifted his head and huffed a sigh. 

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he spoke, forcing a smile. 

"Good afternoon, Dmitry." 

Dmitry rolled his shoulders back before sitting up straight, grabbing the shirt beside him. He pulled it on and buttoned it as Lily and Vlad came into the room. Lily said something about Dmitry had 'half killed' Vlad, which made the Dowager and Anya laugh. Vlad had chuckled at Dmitry, who looked half dead himself. 

Dmitry chuckled as well. 

"Papa!" 

Dmitry groaned and got up, going to Angelique's room. She squealed and ran up to him, him picking her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wrinkled her nose. 

"What's that look for?" Dmitry laughed. Angelique shrugged. Dmitry carried her to the kitchen, where he got a glass of water. She stuck her tongue out at him, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes. Angelique put her head on his shoulder. 

"What's the matter, Angel?" 

"Nothing," she muttered. Dmitry gave her a stern look. "What?" 

"Nothing, nothing," Dmitry mumbled, downing the glass of water.  "Your grandmother's here." 

He set her down. Angelique clung to his side, giggling. Dmitry laughed and got another glass, filling it and taking Angelique's hand. He and Angelique walked to the parlor, where Dmitry handed the glass of water to Vlad. 

Dmitry sat on the floor, Angelique sitting on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her. Anya passed Alexei to him as well, claiming she had to go do something. Dmitry leaned up and pecked Angelique's cheek. Angelique got up and plopped down beside him, leaning against him. Dmitry held Alexei upright in a sitting position on his lap, ruffling his dark hair. Dmitry lifted him and held him against his shoulder, rubbing the back of his head. 

The Dowager and Lily were chatting about something in a different language, Vlad was teasing Angelique. Dmitry glanced up at Vlad and laughed. 

"Oh, leave her alone, old man," Dmitry chuckled. 

"Who are you calling old, boy?" the Dowager intervened. 

"No one, Your Majesty." 

* * *

 

Angelique giggled as she watched her mother tie the back of her dress. Anya sighed and slipped her heels on. Dmitry came into the room, grabbing the jacket to his suit off of the bed. He sighed and pulled it on. 

"Why are we dressed up again?" Dmitry inquired. 

"Because Nana insisted," Anya responded, fixing his bowtie. Dmitry nodded. Angelique was dressed in a white dress. Anya was dressed in the same blue evening gown she had worn to the ballet. She looked beautiful. Her hair was pinned back, her cosmetics had been applied carefully, and her gloves had been washed the day before. The silky white gloves that she pulled on that reached her elbows. She lifted Alexei and sighed.  

"Are we ready?" 

* * *

 

Upon arriving at the estate of the Dowager Empress, Dmitry gulped. The last time he had been there, things hadn't turned out so well. Anya shivered in the chilly evening weather, which wasn't odd in the month of May. The two approached the estate, entering the moment they stepped in front of the door. Anya led them down the hall to one of the Dowager's sitting rooms, where they sat down and waited patiently for the Dowager. 

Lily entered the room, sitting down in her favorite armchair. Vlad was right behind her and sat in the chair next to her's, the two chatting about the Dowager's pet. 

Much to Dmitry's dismay, the feline seemed to have a way of knowing when someone was talking about it and had curled up in his lap. He sighed and stroked the cat's light colored fur. 

Anya was busy fixing Angelique's hair, as the wind had messed it up terribly. What had been beautiful curls was now a mess and she couldn't do much with it. Anya huffed. Lily had stolen Alexei and had averted her attention to him, forgetting about the Count beside her. 

Vlad pulled out a handkerchief and removed his glasses, cleaning the lenses on them. The Dowager entered a moment later, sitting down in her own armchair. She smiled when she saw Anya, who had yet to notice she had arrived.  Dmitry nudged Anya with his elbow. 

Anya glanced up and smiled. She offered the Dowager a polite wave and went back to Angelique's hair. Dmitry shook his head and chuckled. The Dowager glanced at her beloved pet and laughed. Zvezda always seemed to pick on Dmitry. And now that Dmitry was wearing a black suit, it would be apparent that she had curled up in his lap. 

"I was told dinner will be ready within ten minutes," the Dowager spoke. The others in the room nodded. Lily passed Alexei to the Dowager, then decided to strike up another conversation with Vlad. 

Dmitry sighed when he saw Anya was getting frustrated. He pulled a light blue ribbon out of his pocket (Angelique had given it to him before they left) and pulled the girl over to him. 

"Stand still," he instructed. Angelique nodded. Dmitry pulled her hair back and tied it with the ribbon. It wasn't exactly the best style, but it was the best and only solution at that point. Angelique then went over to Vlad and Lily, hugging both of them. 

Anya placed her head against Dmitry's shoulder, muttering something about she was tired and wanted to go home. Dmitry chuckled and kissed the top of her head. Anya closed her eyes, dozing off. 

"Wake up, Anya," Dmitry murmured. "Anya? Anastasia, wake up!" Anya jerked awake, looking up at him. 

"Sorry," Anya yawned, sitting up straight. 

"Come along, darlings... and Vladimir. Dinner's ready." 

* * *

 

The Dowager had insisted that they stayed at her estate. A storm had hit, and it was still pouring the rain outside. 

"I won't have any of my relatives getting sick," she had said. So, Dmitry and Anya had agreed to stay for her sake. And because they both knew it would have been impossible to get a cab in that weather. 

Anya had changed into a spare nightgown that Lily had brought to her. Dmitry had taken the pajama bottoms Vlad had brought him. When he entered the room, he immediately slid under the covers next to Anya. Angelique had decided to stay with the Dowager and Lily had offered to take care of Alexei. 

"Dima?" 

Dmitry turned on his side to where he faced her. 

"You still think you're not good enough for me?" 

"Anya," he sighed, "I will never be enough for you. But that doesn't matter, does it? You're happy, the kids are happy, I'm happy. What more could a man want?" 

"Oh, you know... Jewels, diamonds, riches beyond compare," Anya teased him. 

"Anya, in case you've forgotten, I lived on the streets and in an abandoned palace for nearly twenty years. The small chateau we live in is good enough for me," Dmitry mumbled sleepily. 

"Oh, you're no fun," Anya gently whacked his arm. Dmitry laughed and closed his eyes. 

"Get some rest, Your Highness." 

"Whatever you say, con man." 

Dmitry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Though he would never be good enough for her, they were happy. They had a family, a small one, but a family no less, and they were all happy. That was what was important. He'd never be enough, but they were happy. And to him, that was all that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who read this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it!


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